And Love all Things that Grow
by AyaWolf27
Summary: After escaping the Vale, Sansa finds a new life as a healer's apprentice. She thought that the ghosts of her old life were put to rest, but one of them comes back to haunt her: a big, mean and scarred ghost known as The Hound.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:** this is my first asoiaf fic. It follows the general storylines untill AFFC, and diverges from canon after that. Sansa and Arya are aged up a bit, so they have 16 and 14 in this story. English is not my mother language, so be nice and forgiving with my grammar. Tittle is a LOTR reference. I do not own anything, of course._

 **Prologue**

"You can use a sage tea to bring down fevers" the old healer was saying "and a bit of it also helps when someone has a stomach ache. To make the tea you use the leaves, not the flowers or the root. And you can use honey to help with the taste…"

Sansa was listening carefully to the lecture, trying to memorize everything. There were so many plants, and each one of them had so many uses, she was hardly able to keep up. But she committed herself to learning, and so every day she would follow Lyara around the garden, with a basket in her hands to pick up the flowers, leaves and roots they would need to make a potion, all the while listening with genuine interest to everything the old healer said.

It has been almost four months since she got there. Sometimes she still doubted she _actually_ made it so far, amazed at herself that she managed to escape the clutches of Petyr Baelish to find refuge in that little house, far in the woods near the Trident. After all, she _wasn't_ like Arya, the strong-willed, assertive and ferocious Arya, her fearless little sister. She has always been a scared little thing. " _A little bird, indeed"_ she thought. Sansa was almost resigned to her destiny: to be a valuable pawn in the game of thrones, marry whoever Littlefinger wanted her to, in order to put his plans to motion. She never thought she would actually muster the courage to escape the Vale, if wasn't for the wolves. One night Sansa was standing in her room, gazing at the moon for no particular reason when she heard it: the howling of wolves. _"Nymeria",_ she thought immediately. Her rational mind told her that it could be any wolf in the world, but her heart _knew_ it was Nymeria. And while the wolves howled, _something_ inside her awakened, as if it was answering to a call. That night she decided she was done with the game of thrones, she was done with Petyr' schemes, she was done with it all. She wanted nothing more but to be free. She had no idea how she would manage it, but she had to try.

It took her a month of planning, bribing servants and eliciting the help of an uncertain Mya Stone, before she could finally left the Gates of the Moon. Since she arrived at the Vale, under the guise of a bastard girl called "Alayne Stone", Sansa befriended Mya Stone. It has been her first real friendship since Jeyne. _"Poor Jeyne"_ Sansa thought _"I wonder what happened to her"_. Mya and "Alayne" bonded, as two bastard born girls from the Vale. Sansa took this to her advantage. She made up a story of how she fell in love with a hedge knight from the Riverlands, while she was growing up in the motherhouse. She told Mya she would more than often "escape" the vigilant septas to see her beloved, and how she and the poor knight planned to escape and marry, but her plans have been disrupted since her "father" took her to the Vale. Oh, but if she could escape, she would find her way back to him, and they would wed, and eventually her father would forgive her. "In time" Sansa used to say "we could even come back here". Sansa was a cleaver girl: since Mya have been denied the chance to marry her own lover, she had a soft spot for star-crossed lovers. She promised "Alayne" she would help her escape. A few days after, Sansa was dressed as a servant girl, and left the gates along with Mya with a simple excuse: "Lady Alayne wants us to buy some fabric for her. For a new dress" said Mya. The guard at the gates didn't look twice at her direction and let them trough. Once they were out of sight, Mya said:

"Now, you take the horse and go. I packed very little, otherwise they would suspect something, but there is enough coin for you to buy food for your journey. The Riverlands aren't very far anyway."

"But what about you? Will you not get into trouble for helping me?"

"I won't. I will wait before I come back, to give you some advantage, and when I do come back I will tell them we were attacked and I lost you in the chaos. They might look for you, of course, but I trust you will be far by the time I go back to the Gates. Now go, Alayne. I hope you and your lover find the way into each other's arms. I wish you a better luck that I was granted"

"Oh, Mya…" Sansa said, hugging the girl. "I will never be able to repay you for this. You have been the best friend I could hope for. Oh, I will miss you"

"So will I, Alayne. But you can come back here, after you find your man. We will see each other again, I bet. Now go, we are wasting time"

And so Sansa left, riding away as fast as she could. She only hoped Mya wouldn't be blamed for her scape. Certainly Petyr Baelish was looking for her, but she could only hope he wouldn't find her so deep in the woods. She found her refuge by chance: after escaping the Vale, her plan was to go to the Saltpans and find a ship to Essos, but she was injured when she fell from her horse. Hurt, alone and scared, she was found by Lyara, the healer, who took Sansa to her cabin and nursed her back to health. Sansa's cover story was simple: she told Lyara her name was Alysanne, daughter of a miller from the Vale, and her family was killed during one of the raids of the Mountain Clans. After that she gathered all of her few belongings and decided to leave for Essos to find a better life. While traveling to the port she fell from her horse, and that was how Lyara found her. Easy and believable, or so Sansa hoped. After a few days she was healed, and still safe from Baelish's man. She was unwilling to leave, and when Lyara offered her a place to stay she readily agreed. She loved her new life: no game of thrones, no plots, no schemes, and no war. She lived a rather peacefully routine in that cozy cabin in the woods, her days spent between gathering plants, tending to the gardens and the animals, and learning about herbs and healing.

Lyara was a good woman, simple and straightforward. She was a head shorter than Sansa, but broad of shoulders. She had strong arms and steady hands, traits much needed in her profession. Lyara's hair was grey and her eyes were green. She never disclosed much about her life with Sansa, but the girl couldn't complain. After all, she wasn't exactly sincere with Lyara either. But they lived a good life there, one that Sansa hoped wouldn't be crushed by her own past.

"Now, this is nightshade. Poisonous, but can be helpful when used in very small doses. It relieves pain, relaxes the muscles and also helps with moonblood pain. You can use either the leaves or the berries, but the dosage has to be very small. Get some of them, Alysanne."

"Yes, Lyara"

"Now I think we should call it a day, girl. Give me the basket, and go gather some firewood. It's almost sunset, we should get inside"

"Yes, of course".

"You are learning very quickly, child. Might be you will become a healer in my place when I die…"

"Oh, Lyara. Don't talk like that. I am sure you will live for many years. Now I better go and get that firewood. Winter is… _nearly here_ " Sansa answered, smiling.

xX Aya Wolf Xx


	2. Gravedigger I

_Thanks for the kind reviews. I am still new to the fanfic universe, although I always dreamt of being a writer, so the first reviews I got warmed my little heart. I hope you enjoy this story. :)_

 **Gravedigger - I**

The gravedigger rested his shovel against a tree, sat upon a rock nearby and drank from a waterskin. _"I would prefer wine"_ he thought, but wine wasn't as abundant in that small island as it has been in King's Landing, so water would have to do, or ale. The brothers could be a pain in the arse sometimes with all their praying, but they made wonderful bitter ale. With sunset, his work as the gravedigger would end, and he would be able to drink a good pint of ale and go to bed with all his past regrets. And oh, how numerous they were… Most of them revolved around a red-haired little-bird, some of them around her dark-haired she-wolf sister, and the rest of them around the fact that he couldn't kill his monstrous brother. Since he arrived at the Quiet Isle, the king's dog turned craven, Sandor Clegane, felt like a changed man. The Hound, his ferocious persona, seemed to have been put to rest. Most of his anger was subdued, and although he didn't became a pious man and still didn't quite believed that the Gods were real, he did felt that maybe there was _purpose_ to his life. After all, he should have been dead, and yet he was not. His life was spared somehow, so maybe he would still have time to correct some of his mistakes. But still, although he wasn't as angry at the whole world as he used to be, the fact that he didn't kill The Mountain in the end still bothered him. That was, after all, the subject of some of his talks with the Elder Brother. The rest of them revolved, as expected, around the little bird and the she-wolf sister of hers.

With a sigh he raised to his feet, with some trouble, ready to get back to work. His leg still bothered him, and although he was getting better day by day, he would probably limp for the rest of his life. _"A small price to pay, after all"_ he thought _"better a lame man than a dead man, that's for sure"_. Before he could resume his work, one of the brothers appeared and motioned for him to follow.

 _"I can't get used to the bloody silence"_ he thought. Not that he was a man of many words, but the silence in the Quiet Isle was disturbing. _"Still, is better than the lies of Kings Landing"._ The silent brother guided him to the nursing house of the island. _"This can't be good",_ Sandor thought as he entered.

A young and feverish girl was laying at the bed, with the Elder Brother tending to her. She was found the previous morning, delirious and weak. The Elder Brother helped her, the best way he could, but since then she didn't seem to get any better. It was clear that the little girl wasn't faring very well, but Sandor asked nonetheless:

"Will she live?"

"At this point, I honestly don't know." The Elder Brother answered "I did the best I could for her, but I think she might be beyond my skill. Saving her life now might be a work for the gods…"

"Then she is fucking doomed" Sandor answered readily. The Elder Brother left out a small laugh, before continuing:

"Sometimes I forget you are a convict non-believer… Anyway, this is a work for the Gods, or maybe for a great healer, someone with skill beyond mine. As it happens, there is a healer nearby that might be able to save the girl. A woods-witch, as the smallfolk call her. Her name is Lyara, I think. She lives in a small cabin in the woods, heading north."

"So… that's why you fetched me? I am to go to this… healer and bring her here?"

"Precisely. You see, all of our horses are old and weak. None of them could travel fast enough. And that beast of yours only answers to your command."

"I think it's way too much work. The girl won't last long, and you know it"

"Still, I will try to save her life as long as there is hope. I cannot force you to do this, of course, but I beg you to help me out this time. After all, you came to this island just like her: feverish and dying. And here you are."

"Here I am… Although I still don't know why"

"Maybe the Gods brought you back to do this one thing: to help save a child's life."

Sandor left out a bitter laugh before saying:

"I doubt the 'gods' even exist. But I have a debt to you. I will go to the healer."

"Good. You must part at once. With luck you will return by nightfall."

"Anything else?"

"Keep your hood on. Your… face is far too recognizable. And the Hound is _supposed_ to be dead"

"Aye, I will do that. I will be back with the healer by nightfall"

"May the Gods be with you, Sandor Clegane"

He rode as fast as he could, never stopping. Stranger, or Driftwood, as the Brothers called him, was still a horse at its prime. Stranger has been able to keep a hard pace for a long time, and Sandor decided to take advantage of that. The house of the witch should be near by now, he thought. He doubted that the woman would be able to save the girl, but he owed to the Elder Brother at least to try. After all, if he was saved, against all odds, maybe the girl could have a chance.

A few hours later he arrived at the location. It was a small but sturdy stone cabin. The front was dominated by a great garden, with many herbs. A short old woman with long grey hair was tending to the plants. When Sandor approached, she stopped and looked upon him, with a suspicious expression:

"Greetings, brother" she said "what brings a man of the Faith to my humble house?"

"Are you Lyara?" Sandor asked

"Aye, that would be me"

"Then you must come with me at once. There is no time to lose"

She laughed, and asked:

"Just like that? You cannot demand me around, brother. You must know that"

"I do not _demand_ , I _request_. There is a life at stake now: a little girl at the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can't save her. He says only a healer of great skill can do that. You don't have to come, but if you don't, then the girl will die for sure"

"Valar morghulis, brother."

"Aye, all men must die. But she is no _man_ , only a little girl…"

Lyara laughed and said:

"Alright then. I will see the child. Wait here for a moment. I will gather some supplies and fetch my daughter. I might need her assistance."

"Just make it quick. There is no time to lose"

The woman, Lyara, entered the house. A few moments later she returned, with a cloak over her shoulders and carrying a basket. She was followed by a girl, also cloaked and carrying a satchel. Sandor would have paid her no mind, but when she looked up and he saw her face, his heart stopped.

It was _her_. The Little Bird. Sansa Stark.

She was the same girl. Taller, for sure, and now showing the figure of a woman grown, not a small girl. Her long hair wasn't red as he remembered, but dark, yet she had the same big and bright Tully-blue eyes. She wore a simple blue dress and a grey cloak. The little bird obviously didn't recognize him. _"And how could she?"_ he thought _"I look like a bloody brother now. And she can't see my face…"_

He tried to make sense of his feelings, but it was all a mess. _That_ girl was the source of most of his regrets. Regrets for being unable to protect her, for leaving her at the Red Keep. He has always been a killer, and a terrible man, and that fact never bothered him before. But he felt… guilty for what happened to her. Sometimes he tried to tell himself that he wasn't to blame, that the misfortune that befallen her and her family was fault of her foolish father, and herself. It wasn't him who filled her pretty head with songs and fantasies; it wasn't him who brought her to that viper's nest that was Kings Landing and left her to fend for herself. No, he wasn't to blame for any of those things. Yet he felt responsible for not helping her. He always believed that the biggest and strongest prey over the smallest and weakest: that is the natural order of things. Cruel as it might be, it's just the way the world is. Still, when the little bird was a prey to the Lannisters he could have helped her. He _should_ have. And because he wasn't able to do that, the girl was forced to marry the Imp, and share his bed. It made him sick to think about that. But despite all of that, the girl was _there_ , alive and well. How did she end up there? No one knew what became of her after she escaped Kings Landing, in the chaos that followed King Joffrey's murder. What happened to her between that and now was surely quite a tale, one he was eager to hear. The Little Bird looked a bit different, for sure, with that dark hair, but he was sure it was _her_. It _had_ to be. When she spoke, his doubts were subdued: it was the same voice he remembered, the same voice that once sang a song to him, amidst the fire and death while Blackwater Bay burned.

"Mother, should I fetch the mare? We cannot all mount the same horse… Even a big one like that"

"Aye, Alysanne. Go get Maiden. I will ride her; you and the brother can ride the black stallion"

"Yes, mother"

 _'Alysanne'_ left for a moment, and came back with a young and fine mare, with cream coat and white mane. The healer, Lyara, strapped the supplies to her saddle, and mounted. The Little Bird approached him, seemingly nervous. He dismounted and helped her to the saddle, mounting again right after. _"This will be long ride"_ he thought, as they left. He felt the heat of her little body close to his, and smelled her hair, and sighed: _"a long, long ride indeed"._

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	3. Alysanne I

_**TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains mentions of miscarriage, child pregnancy and briefly descripts a procedure called dilation and curettage. It isn't too graphic, but be warned that this can be disturbing or uncomfortable for some people. Please do not report my fic, I posted a TW.**_

 _ **Additional Note:**_ _This is a work of fiction. None of the procedures and remedies described here should be attempted at home as a form of treatment. If you need medical help, seek a professional. Do not try to do this at home!_

 **Alysanne/Sansa - I**

When Sansa saw the black stallion, her mind was flooded with memories of another lifetime, of a scarred man who used to mount a black stallion just like that. It couldn't possibly be the same horse, right? Stranger was Sandor Clegane's mount, a beast as ferocious as his master. No one but him could ever mount the stallion, and no one but the Hound ever tended to him. _"It's just another black stallion. Surely it looks like him, but no more than any other black horse of the same size"._ The real Stranger was probably as dead as his master. Sansa remembered how lost and hopeless she felt when she learned of Sandor's death. She couldn't quite explain why, but she mourned him and wept her heart out for nights after. He was a terrible man, always scaring her, always saying terrible and hateful things. He even held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her… And yet, the same brute man saved her from an angry mob, covered her naked body when Joffrey humiliated her on court, and even helped to cover a lie for her, sparing her from yet another beating… _"The same man who kissed me on that dreadful night"_ she thought. It wasn't strange that she would remind him with some… fondness.

The brother was silent behind her, but she could feel his heart was beating wildly. _"Maybe he is nervous. He is a brother sworn to the faith, but he is still a man, and I am a woman"._ He was tall, and broad of shoulders _"Just like him"_ she thought. With his face hidden by the cowl, she could even pretend he was Sandor Clegane, back from the grave. _"Don't be stupid, Sansa"_ she scolded herself _"he is dead, and he is not coming back. Playing pretend will not change the fact that he is gone forever"._ And even if he was alive, it would be unlikely that Sandor Clegane would take the vows and become a brown brother. It was impossible. He didn't believe in the Seven Gods, he even gave his horse a blasphemous name. Even if he was alive, he wouldn't be at the Quiet Isle, praying and contemplating. He would be swinging his sword at someone. _"Killing is the sweetest thing"_ , he once told her. There was no way a warrior like him would become a silent brother.

They rode hard and fast, but luckily both horses were young and strong. Sansa was afraid Maiden would fall far behind the black stallion, but her mare was faring very well. When she left the Vale she didn't remembered to ask Mya the name of the horse, and she had to call her _something_. The mare was not only strikingly beautiful, but well-mannered as well. She reminded Sansa of Lady, but that name was obviously out of question. She settled for _Maiden_ , a suitable name for such a docile horse. Obviously the fact that she, like Sandor Clegane, gave her horse a blasphemous name wasn't lost to her, but she was sure the Gods wouldn't mind that. After all, as far as she was concerned they were indebted to her, after all the suffering they made her go through.

Night was falling when they finally arrived at the ferry that would lead them to the island. There was a chill in the air, and Sansa clung to her cloak to keep the cold at bay. The words of House Stark came to her mind: they were so different from the words of the other noble houses. Almost all of them were just boastful words claiming power, strength and bravery. But the Stark words held a simple warning: _winter is coming_. _"Eventually we are right"_ she though. _"Now winter is really coming. It's almost here"._

Sansa helped Lyara to get on the ferry, while the brown brother carried the horses. It would be a few more moments until they arrived at the island, where Sansa would have her first real lesson on healing. For the past months she mostly gathered herbs and made a few potions, so when Lyara told her they were requested, she was excited to put what she learned to good use. The old healer instructed Sansa to call her _'mother'_ whenever they were around other people, so she had to keep that in mind. _"It is better this way, child. People will respect the daughter of a woods-witch more than they would respect a servant girl"_ , Lyara said.

When they arrived at the island the brother dismounted before helping Sansa out of the saddle.

"Thank you" she said, but he didn't answer. _"They make vows of silence. That's why they call this 'The Quiet Isle'"._ She helped Lyara take their supplies from Maiden's saddle. Another brother greeted them:

"Welcome to Quiet Isle, Lyara the Healer. And the girl…?"

"My daughter, Alysanne. She was living with my sister in Oldtown, and just returned a few months ago"

"Oh, I see. It is a pleasure to meet you, Alysanne. I am Brother Narbert. The Elder Brother is expecting you. Follow me"

While Sansa and Lyara followed Brother Narbert, the tall brother was left to tend to the horses. Sansa looked behind her and saw his huge form retreating to the stables, limping _. "The Hound does not limp"_ she thought. Not that it mattered anyway. _"The Hound is dead",_ she reminded herself.

They arrived at a small and simple cabin, one of the cabins reserved for the women who visited the island, which was now being used as a healing house. Brother Narbert opened the door and motioned for them to enter. There was a bed at the center of the cabin, where a young girl was laying. A tall, bald man was tending to her, probably the so called Elder Brother. When he heard them he lifted his head and approached:

"Welcome, Lyara. I am glad you agreed to come"

"I was told a child was in need of my help"

"Indeed. I don't know what to do for her, so I figured you would be her best chance."

"How long has she been like that?"

"She was brought yesterday, feverish and delirious. I wasn't able to bring down her fever since then"

"This is no good…" Lyara said, crossing the distance to the bed. She started to examine the girl, while Sansa stood still, not knowing what to do. Lyara examined her, checking her temperature, her eyes, her tongue. Finally, she opened the girls legs and started to inspect her… _there_. Sansa was uncomfortable, but scolded herself for it. After all, if she was to become a healer she would have to get used to situations like that. After a while, Lyara said:

"Well, it is no wonder you didn't know what to do with the girl. She had a miscarriage…"

"A miscarriage?" Sansa asked "But she looks so young…"

"Aye, she is young, way too young. Might be that it happened naturally, or this is a result of a moon tea used way too late. The remains of her pregnancy are still inside her, that's what is killing her".

"And what can be done?" the Elder Brother asked

"We get rid of it, of course. We make her bleed…"

"But if she bleeds, she might die!" the brother said.

"Ayes, if she bleeds she might die, but if she doesn't bleed she dies for sure. This is her only chance. Now, you brothers don't want to see this. There is nothing you can do now to help. If you want to help, pray for the Gods and ask them to spare the girl's life. And have someone bring hot water and fresh linens right away. This is all you can for now. Now shoo… Let me and Alysanne do the work"

"Yes, of course. Come, Brother Narbert" A minute later they were alone, and Sansa felt like panicking, but she collect herself quickly. Now it was not the time to act like a scared little girl. She wasn't the stupid and empty headed noble girl from her past life. She was a woman grown, and a healer. She had to be calm, strong and confident, like Lyara. Sansa rolled up her sleeves, put her apron and said:

"Okay, Lyara. Where do we start?"

"We have to act quickly if we are to save her life. I will prepare something to help her to expel whatever is killing her, you prepare something for the pain"

"I will prepare some milk of the poppy. It will numb the pain and make her sleep while we work"

"Good girl. Get to work."

Sansa opened up her satchel and started to gather the ingredients to prepare the milk of the poppy. It was one of the first lessons Lyara told her. She carefully mixed all the ingredients, carefully dosing all of them. When it was ready she poured it to a bowl. Lyara was already giving the girl her potion to help with the expelling… Sansa would have to ask her later what she put in the potion. There was a knock at the door, and Sansa hurried to answer it. It was brother Narbert, with buckets of hot water and fresh linens. Sansa motioned for him to enter.

"Anything else, Lyara?" he asked.

"No, that would be all for now."

"Alright" he said, and left the cabin.

After Lyara was done, Sansa carefully administered the Milk of the Poppy. The girl was suffering greatly, and Sansa pitied her. She didn't paid attention to her before, absorbed as she was in her task, but now she noticed how much the girl resembled her sister: she was as tiny as Arya, and had the same dark hair and grey eyes. After the girl drank the potion, Sansa carefully cleaned the sweat from her forehead, and unconsciously she started to sing a northern song. When she noticed Lyara was looking strangely at her, she stopped and said:

"What do we do now?"

"Now, you help me lift her up. She cannot be laying down now, she has to be sitting."

"Alright"

They had no trouble lifting the girl, even though she was deeply asleep. After they were done, Lyara opened up the girl's legs and lifted her dress. Then, she went to her satchel and retrieved a leather pouch from it. Inside the pouch there were many tools, some of them already familiar to Sansa.

"Now, I will use this to clean her womb. It is messy and bloody deed, but it can save her life. You better watch carefully, girl. Might be one day you will need to do the same thing."

"Yes, Lyara"

"Now, I will not fool you: this is no guarantee. She might die in the end. She might live and become barren. She might even recover without much damage. Either way, this is the only chance she has."

Sansa nodded and stepped closer to Lyara to watch her working. The healer inserted an iron pole through the girl's parts. It was hard to watch, and at some point Sansa thought she was going to faint, but she remained frozen in place, watching carefully. Lyara worked very slowly and carefully, as to not cause too much damage. There was a lot of blood involved, just as Lyara predicted. At some point the girl started to twist and toss, so Sansa left Lyara's side to calm her down. She sang to the girl, caressing her hair, which seemed to calm her down. It took nearly an hour, but finally Lyara was done.

"Now help me clean her up and change these linens. And then we prepare something to quench her fever." Lyara said. Sansa did as she asked: they changed the linens, doing the best as not to disturb the girl. They worked in silence, concentrated in their tasks. After all was done, Lyara asked Sansa:

"Now you go fetch some watered honey. She won't be able to eat properly right away, but she needs something to regain her strength. The watered honey will do just fine for now."

"Yes, of course".

While Lyara remained tending to the girl, Sansa left for the chilly outside of the cabin. It was harder than she expected, but she thought she behaved quite well. She doubted that anyone who saw her cowering in the corners of the Red Keep after a beating from the Kingsguard would believe she was capable of doing what she just did. Obviously her work wasn't as hard as Lyara's, but still it required a steady heart. It was a bravery of sorts, to stand calm and focused when a life was at stake.

The Elder Brother and Brother Narbert were outside the cabin. When they saw Sansa they looked expectantly at her. Sansa answered:

"She is asleep now. Mother and I did the best we could; now it is for the Gods to decide her fate. Still, we shall try to make her drink some watered honey. It might help her recovery."

"Good, that's good" said the Elder Brother.

"Oh, and mother will probably stay here to watch the girl during the night, so I would like to bring something for her to eat"

"Of course, child. Brother Narbert will accompany you to the kitchens. You can gather anything you need for the girl. I will go and see if Lyara needs anything else."

"Thank you, Elder Brother" Sansa said, before following Brother Narbert to the kitchens. While she walked she had the distinct feeling that she was being watched, so she stopped and glanced behind her. That's when she saw the tall silent brother that led them to the Quiet Isle standing like a rock besides the cabin. When she saw him like that she couldn't stop thinking about Sandor Clegane lurking in the corridors of the Red Keep, drunk and mean. _"Sandor Clegane is dead"_ she reminded herself one more time. Still, it was getting harder not to think of him whenever she saw the tall brother around. _"I must be going mad"_ she thought, shaking her head and walking away.

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	4. Alysanne II

_**Author's note:**_ _Thanks for the kind reviews! I hope you're enjoying this fic as much as I am… I am sorry for not being able to update sooner, but now that the holidays' season is gone I am back to my old routine. That said, I have to announce that I probably won't be able to post updates as regularly as before. Nonetheless I will try to post a new chapter every Friday or Saturday, so stay tuned and don't give up on me! Here goes another chapter, and I hope you like it._

 **Alysanne/Sansa - II**

The last two days had been hard and decisive. Lyara said that they had to watch the girl closely for any signs that things went wrong. They had to take turns watching over the patient, which proved to be a hard work. The girl had to be examined every hour, and milk of the poppy and watered honey had to be given to her frequently. The first night was the hardest: the bleeding started again, and the girl had a high fever. They almost lost her again, and Lyara and Sansa had a sleepless night, watching over the girl and giving her potions to stop the bleeding. By morning the bleeding stopped, and though the girl looked very weak and pale, Lyara took it as a good sign. By noon she was looking better, although still a bit shaky and with a lingering fever. That night Lyara stood watching her while Sansa slept, but before sunrise the young apprentice was up and ready to replace the old healer. When she went to the cabin, Sansa saw the tall brother working in the distance. She was curious about him and a bit nervous as well, but right now wasn't the time to ponder over those feelings. She had a feverish girl to tend to.

The morning went, and not much changed. The girl was still asleep, but Sansa decided to cut off the milk of the poppy. The fever was still lingering, but it wasn't as high as before, which was a good sign. Sometime after noon Lyara was awake and joined Sansa in the cabin.

"How is she?" the healer asked

"She seems to be improving. She still has a fever, but not as high as before. I decided to stop giving her the milk of the poppy. If she shows any sign of pain we can give her some more, but I think she is ready to wake up at any moment now. Maybe when she wakes she will be strong enough to eat some broth. That would help her to get back on her feet soon…"

Lyara examined the girl and seemed very pleased. It gave Sansa some pride to see that her mentor was satisfied with her work:

"Good." Lyara said "You learned very quickly, child. I was right about you. You have the Mother's Gift"

"Mother's Gift? What does it mean?"

"It means you are a _natural_ healer. You see, every person in the world is gifted by a different aspect of the Gods. Some of them are gifted by the Warrior, and this gift manifests as greatness in battle. Some people have the gift of the Father: those are the great Kings and Lords…"

Sansa was listening carefully. She never heard about that before, but Lyara was a wise woman. If she said so, then it must be truth. _"Could it be that my brother Robb had the Warrior's Gift? Although his life was brief, he was a famous warrior"_. Every time she thought about her family she felt a pang of pain. Before she would start crying, she set those thoughts aside, just as Lyara proceeded:

"And some, like you, have the Mother's Gift: the ones who are born with the Mother's Gift have a natural talent to _nurture_. They find happiness in easing pain and growing things… they are natural born healers, and they can only find fulfillment seeing things whole and thriving."

"And you think I have this gift?" Sansa asked. She never thought about that, but it gave her purpose to know that maybe she was meant to be a healer. All of her life she believed her destiny was to marry a Lord, rule a household, have children and nothing more. _"Nothing more than being a pretty bird in a cage"_ she though. Could it be that she was wrong, all along? Could it be that there was more to her destiny than what she first believed? Lyara nodded and said:

"I know, for sure. This is my own gift: the Gift of the Crone. I can see the paths of the others, even when they cannot see themselves…" Lyara said laughing. Sansa pondered over that for a moment. Lyara was indeed a wise woman, like the Crone. She was teaching her, guiding her, leading her to embrace her own gift. Could it be that it was true and she could really see the fates of the others? If so, could that mean that Sansa was really meant to follow Lyara's footsteps as a healer, living a peaceful life in that little cabin, tending to the ones in need, growing herbs and making potions, apart from the death and destruction that befallen the realm?

"She seems to be awakening" Lyara said and Sansa turned her attention to the girl. Her eyes were slightly open and she seemed to be struggling to speak.

"Hush now, girl" Lyara said "You're still very weak…"

"W…Whe…Where…"

"Where are you? You are at the Quiet Isle, child. You came here almost dying, almost three days ago, and we did our best to save you"

"Is… the…the…" it was clear that speaking was too much of an effort for her now, but she sounded very desperate to utter that one phrase. Lyara figured what the girl meant to say, for she asked:

"You want to know about your child?"

She nodded, looking frightened. Sansa picked up a cloth and started to clean the sweat from the girl's forehead, as Lyara sighed and answered.

"You are not pregnant anymore, child."

The girl left out a relieved sigh. If there was any doubt before now it was clear that she took the moon tea on purpose, to get rid of the child. Sansa wondered why she did such a thing. Surely she was too young: she was so small and tiny it was hard to say for sure, but she seemed younger than Sansa, who was a sixteen year old maiden. Maybe the girl was 13, 14 years old at best. Sansa wondered what happened to her, but made no questions. The poor thing wasn't in shape to speak anyway, and it wasn't Sansa's place to judge. Lyara told her that a good healer must be free from prejudices. It doesn't matter who is the patient, or what is his story. The only thing that matters is the illness, and how to treat it. Lyara brushed a lock of hair out of the girl's forehead and said:

"It's over now, my dear. You don't need to talk about it anymore. Now you should rest. When you wake up again we will try to feed you."

The girl nodded and slipped back into a deep sleep. She seemed to be faring quite well, and her chances were improving greatly. Lyara was certainly an exceptional healer: anyone would think the girl was a lost case, but Lyara was quick and efficient, and managed to achieve the impossible. Sansa only hoped she would be like her one day.

"She is improving, which is good. Soon she will be able to leave. For the next few days she will need further care, but there is no need for both of us to stay here. I will stay with the girl until she recovers, but you need to leave tomorrow. The garden and the animals back home need tending…"

"Of course, Lyara"

"You can arrange your departure with the Elder Brother. I am sure one of the brothers can accompany you home."

"Yes, I will do that. Are you sure you will be fine on your own?"

"I will. If I need assistance the Elder Brother will help me. He is a good healer himself. Not as good as me, but he has some merit. After all he managed to save many lives, as far as I know."

"Alright. I will do as you ask, Lyara."

Sansa left the cabin, her feet wandering as much as her thoughts. So much happened to her since she left home: she once thought that her fate was to become Queen of Westeros, but everything that happened ever since left her with a bitter aversion to everything she once craved for: thrones, finery, lords, power. All of those things that once were so important for her now meant nothing. She wanted a simple life: a roof over her head, a good fireplace to ward off the cold, food fresh from the garden, cinnamon tea. Lyara's words gave her a new sense of purpose and perspective: she was determined to be a good healer, the best she could. Part of her still longed for Winterfell, it was true, but only because it was her place, her home. Yet she held no illusions about it. She knew that her home was lost to her. She would never be able to return to Winterfell, but Sansa couldn't help the longing she felt.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realized where she was going until she saw the tall and broad form of the brown brother that led her to the Isle, the one who reminded her so much of Sandor Clegane. He had his back to her, and was working, digging a hole in the ground. _"A grave",_ she thought. It was clear she was in a cemetery. It didn't felt right to watch him like that, so she made her presence known:

"Good morning, brother"

He tensed and paused when he heard her voice. Sansa recalled that he always seemed a bit tense in her presence. At first she thought it was because she represented a temptation of sorts to him and his celibacy vows, but she was less certain of that now. After all, the other brothers she was acquainted with in her short time in the island didn't seemed to feel the same way. They treated her with respect when addressing her, but otherwise seemed to paid her no mind. Only the gravedigger showed such an unusual and strong reaction to her presence. After a few moments in which he seemed to be regaining his composture he turned and nodded in her direction, before continuing his work.

"The girl is faring better now" she said "we arrived just in time. Since you were the one sent to fetch mother and I, I think you can also take some credit for saving her life."

He didn't answer to that. She figured that he must have made a vow of silence. She sighed and sat upon a nearby rock. His figure was imposing, and it was hard not to remember how the Hound always towered over her, even though she has always been quite tall for her age. The brother never stopped working, not even bothering to glance at her. _"I must be such a nuisance to him"_ she though. She didn't know exactly why she felt so drawn to that man. _"It must be because he reminds me of Sandor Clegane"_ she mused. Not wanting to bother him anymore and assaulted by her own memories of Clegane, she bid him farewell, turned and left. She needed to walk in order to quiet down her heart, which was beating madly in her chest, though she didn't know exactly why.

After a few moments of aimless wandering, she found the Elder Brother praying in the Sept. He was so absorbed in his prayers that she didn't dared to move, as to not disturb him. It was a long time since she last stepped inside a Sept. _"I think it was that night, the night of the battle"_ she thought, but then Sansa remembered that she was _married_ in a Sept after that. _"Married to the dwarf, no less."_ She thought. It seemed to be a bad jape: she, who always wanted to marry a charming prince, married to the most ugly man in the Seven Realms. _"Maybe even the second ugliest, some would say…"_ The ugliest would be, of course, the man who put a knife at her throat and demanded a song _"And kissed me…_ _If I had left with him, I wouldn't have married the dwarf"_. But now that all had been said and done, thinking about _what if's_ was useless, so instead she decided to use that time to pray. Her faith in the Gods suffered greatly after the deaths of her father, mother and brothers, but she never stopped believing altogether. She still had some faith in the Gods, both Old and New, and she hoped they would look after her now, even if they didn't before. So she prayed to the Mother, asking her help to embrace her fate as a healer. She prayed to the Father, the Warrior and the Crone to help her sister, guide her and protect her, in case she was still alive… She even prayed to the Stranger: _"Take good care of those you took from me: father, mother, Robb, Bran and Rickon… and Sandor Clegane. He has always been your most devout follower… so I hope you look after him now that he is with you"._ When she finished her prayers, she found the Elder Brother looking at her:

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Alysanne, Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, I just finished my prayers now. I was actually looking for you. My mother decided I should return home, since the girl is getting better and there is no need for both of us to stay here."

"Of course. You mean to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, at first light. Maiden should stay here, for when mother decides to come back. Maybe one of the brothers could accompany me?"

"Yes, of course. I will ask Brother Gravedigger to take you home. He is the one who brought you here, if you recall…"

Yes, she did. It was curious that he would be one to take her back, of all the brown brothers. Probably it was just a coincidence, of course. Maybe he was just the best rider among the brothers, or perhaps it was because he didn't have much work digging graves lately and was the only brother that could be spared… the last seemed to be very unlikely. Between lords at war and bandits, she was sure that a gravedigger couldn't be short of work recently.

"I do, of course." She said nervously. That would be great, Elder Brother, thank you"

"You are welcome, child" The Elder Brother turned to leave, but Sansa had something in her mind. _"It would seem so strange to ask that, but I have to know_ " she pondered. Maybe the Elder Brother would dismiss her interest as simple curiosity and wouldn't ask questions that she wasn't sure how to answer. Before she could lose her courage, she asked:

"Elder Brother, wait… I have a… question…"

"Yes?" the monk stopped and turned to her, waiting. It took her a minute to get the words out of her mouth, and she avoided his eyes all the while:

"About the Gravedigger… I was just wondering… what is his story?"

The Elder Brother stared at her quizzically for a moment. Certainly he found her questioning strange, but after a few moments he answered:

"It's not my place to tell his story, child. But I can tell you what I know: before he came to this place, he was a man of violence. When we found him he was dying and we did our best to save him. Ultimately the Gods decided to spare his life and he has been living here since then, although I cannot say that he is now the same man he once was. I am afraid _that_ man is… _gone_."

Sansa pondered for a minute, considering his words. So, he was a man of violence before… It would explain his imposing form and stance, and why he reminded her so much of Sandor Clegane, who had been a man of violence himself.

"Oh, I see… And how many years ago was that?" she asked.

"Not years… months. We found him by the river. It was by time of the Raid of the Saltpans, if I recall… sometime after the Red Wedding…"

"Oh…"

"If that would be all, I must go. Goodnight, Alysanne"

By then Sansa was vaguely aware of her surroundings, but upon hearing the last words she answered mechanically:

"Goodnight, Brother…"

A moment later he was gone, and Sansa was left alone to think about what he said. The words were dancing madly in her head: _"He was a man of violence…"_ he said. _"…that man is gone" "not years, months" "after the Red Wedding…"._ When she was living at the Vale she heard about a man with a dog helmet wreaking havoc in the Saltpans… By then she wasn't sure that man was really Sandor Clegane: although he was a violent man who claimed killing was the sweetest thing, she didn't think it was his style… Some of the news involved villages burned down, and she knew exactly how the Hound felt about fire. That raid happened sometime after the Red Wedding, if she recalled. And a few months later, when she was living with Lyara there was that time she went to the village to shop for supplies and heard that the Hound was… _gone_. _"The monks of the Quiet Isle said so"_ a man was saying. _"There was some ugly wench looking for him, but the brothers told her the man was gone. They found him themselves, or so they say…"_ Upon hearing that, she was overcame by sadness and regret: the Hound was dead. The only friend she had in King's Landing, the one and only who tried to protect her from the Lannisters was dead. Yes, they said he was gone, but what if _gone_ didn't mean _dead_? The Elder Brother said the man the Gravedigger used to be was _gone_ … and he was clearly very much _alive_. "Could it be…?" Sansa thought and suddenly she felt giddy and confused and had to sit down for a minute to calm down her restless heart and her shaking legs. Could it be true, or it was just a fool's hope, born from her own naivety? Could it be that she was just hanging onto that mad idea because she wanted so badly to be true? Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the Gravedigger than she knew, and she was determined to find out the truth, whatever it might be. And whatever it might cost.

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	5. Gravedigger II

**A/N:** SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY! I did have plans to post a chapter each weekend, but work and studies are really keeping me busy most of the time. So, I apologize. This chapter was supposed to be shorter, but since I couldn't post in a long time I decided to make it longer so I could progress with the story. Also, I am not very good writing fight scenes, so please be comprehensive. I will do my best to keep the regular updates, so don't give up on me just yet! Now, to the chapter!

 **Gravedigger - II**

On the first night, while the Little Bird and her "mother" were tending to the girl he stayed outside the cabin, listening and watching them work through a gap in one of the windows. While he was certain that the dark haired girl was the Little Bird – he couldn't have mistaken her for anyone in the world, after all – she seemed different, changed somehow. The way she behaved, so calm and collected even in such a difficult task was a stark contrast to her previous self, always frightened and vulnerable. It was only when she sang for the little girl that he was able to see something of her old self: the pull to comfort those in suffering, like she did to him when she sang the Mother's Hymn amidst the green fire of the battle on that fateful night.

When all was done and the Little Bird stepped outside the cabin, he retreated even more to the shadows. When she left with brother Narbert he watched her, and for a brief moment their eyes locked and although she couldn't see his, covered by the cowl of his monastic attire, he saw a glimpse of something in hers… It didn't last long, for she retreated to the kitchens with brother Narbert, leaving him and the Elder Brother alone. The older monk broke the silence:

"You can come out now, brother."

Sandor didn't realize he has been caught. Grunting, he stepped out of the shadows and said:

"I am not a bloody brother"

"Yes, I am aware of that" the old monk said. "So, are you going to tell me what is happening here or not?"

Sandor sighed and shook his head, before saying:

"It is her. The healer's daughter, I mean… Alysanne or whatever… she is the Little Bird. She is Sansa Stark"

The Elder Brother looked at him quizzically for a moment, seemingly doubting him. Sandor couldn't blame him: if he hadn't seen her in person he wouldn't believe either. After all, the last he heard about the Little Bird was that she disappeared after helping her husband murder King Joffrey. Who would believe that she was living in the Riverlands, under the guise of a healer's daughter? That was an outcome neither of them was expecting, to say the least.

"Are you sure?" The Elder Brother asked "I thought that Sansa Stark had red hair, like her Tully mother. This girl has black hair…"

"It is her, I am sure. She must have dyed her hair or something, but it is her. I know for sure"

The Elder Brother pondered over his words for a moment, before he spoke:

"And how Sansa Stark became a healer in the Riverlands?"

"That remains to be known. But it is her"

"And what do you plan to do now, Sandor Clegane?"

The question caught him of guard. He certainly didn't expect to meet the Little Bird again. Sure, he _wanted_ to: the thought of seeing her again has always been on the back of his mind after he left her, but he never really planned much further than that. What should he do? Apologize? And for what? For not being a knight in shining armor when she desperately needed one? For not helping her against the lions? For putting a knife to her throat and demanding a song? For leaving her alone to face the outcome of the battle? For her marriage to the Imp? For not taking care of her sister? His head was spinning, but he didn't had an answer to Elder Brother's question:

"I don't know" he answered honestly.

"Well, then it is a good thing she thinks you are a brother. She didn't recognize you, that should give you time to think about it."

Sandor didn't answer. He was relieved she didn't know it was him, for he could at least avoid the confrontation with the Little Bird. But there was a part of him longing to know how she would react upon seeing him. _"Of course she will cower and flee, your bloody fool"_ he thought. _"What do you think? That she would run into your arms like a maiden in a bloody song? She barely could stand you before, how else would she react after what you did that night?"_. The Elder Brother was speaking again, but Sandor barely registered, so lost in thoughts as he was:

"What?"

"I was saying that maybe you should retire for the night. Go to bed, think about it. I will see if Lyara needs anything"

Sandor nodded and retreated. He knew, though, that he wasn't going to sleep that night, at all. The Little Bird haunted most of his dreams even before. Now that she was _there_ , so close to him it would be no different. _"It will be a long night"_ he thought, while he made his way back to the cloisters.

The next morning he didn't see the Little Bird at all. She and Lyara spent the whole night and most of the day tending to the girl, inside the cabin, while the brothers would bring them meals and the herbs they needed. He spent the whole day drinking and grunting, and that night he went to bed, drunk like a pig. Sandor woke up the next day with a fine headache and way moodier than usual. He had a restless drunken dream the night before, and woke up with thoughts of the Little Bird plaguing him. So he decided to dig. His work mostly kept him busy, and helped him to vent his anger. He was viciously digging and pondering about his situation when he heard the Bird's voice:

"Good morning, brother." She chirped. He was caught by surprise. Moments before he was thinking of her, and almost like his thoughts conjured her somehow, there she was. He didn't know what to do or say, but he remembered that he still had his hood on, and he could just as easily avoid saying anything, under the pretense that he made a bloody silence vow. But he had to acknowledge her somehow, he realized, because he was supposed to be a bloody _"brother",_ and therefore could not behave like a rude bastard. He turned at her direction and nodded, before continuing his work. He could sense she was still there. _"What does she want?"_ he thought. The Little Bird spoke again.

"The girl is faring better now. We arrived just in time. Since you were the one sent to fetch mother and I, I think you could also take some credit in saving her life"

" _Yes, that would make for a bloody change, wouldn't? Saving a girl's life instead of ruining it?"_ he thought, but said nothing. He just continued working, while the Little Bird sat upon a rock nearby. A tense silence fell for a moment, interrupted only the sound of the shovel ravishing the ground. _"We are alone now"_ he thought. _"I could tell her. I could say something, or even take of the hood and show her my ugly face"._ But he never worked up the courage to reveal himself. It was so strange: he was a warrior, a fierce one. He was afraid of nothing but fire, and yet he didn't had the courage to face her. _"That's because you feel guilty_ " he thought. He never felt guilty about any of the terrible things he had done before: while he was traveling with the little She-Wolf she would ramble about the butcher boy he killer, and he never felt anything about it but annoyance. The boy meant nothing to him, no one he hurt had ever meant anything to him, but the Little Bird was something else. She was, after all, his deepest regret.

After a few moments she retreated, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He knew it wasn't right to keep her in the dark like that: she had a right to know he was there, alive and well. She deserved something from him: if not an apology, at least the chance to scream at him and beat him for all he has done to her. _"Like hell she would do that"_ he thought. The Little Bird he remembered wouldn't ever do such a thing, even to a brute like him. But then again, she wasn't exactly like the Little Bird she remembered.

That night he had half a mind to drink himself to sleep again, but the Elder Brother called him, so he postponed that plan. He found him in the Hermit's Hole, praying:

"You summoned me" he said, and the Elder Brother turned to him.

"Indeed" he said. "Have you made your mind about your… situation?"

Taking a seat, Sandor shrugged and answered:

"As I matter of fact, I didn't."

"So you have no idea what to do?"

"I was thinking about drink and denial, actually"

The Elder Brother chuckled at that, before answering.

"You know, you are a better man than you give yourself credit for, Sandor Clegane"

"Oh, I know lots of people who would disagree. Including that girl"

Since his arrival at the island, he would often come to the cave to talk to the Elder Brother. They spoke at length, and about many things. Sandor never held anything back, never sparing the Brother even the most disturbing details of his tale. He told about everything that he had done, and yet somehow the Elder Brother liked to insist that there was goodness in him.

"That remains to be seen" the Elder Brother continued "but since you can't seem to make a decision about that, I might as well interfere. I have a task for you"

"A task? What kind of task?"

"Lyara will remain here for a few more days, to make sure the girl fully recovers. But _'Alysanne'_ needs to return home. I want you to escort her, that's all."

Sandor got up quickly, chuckling nervously while shaking his head.

"You want me to take her back home? Me, of all people?"

"Yes" the Elder Brother answered, in a calm voice. Sandor started to pace around, his anger boiling in the surface.

"You know how I feel about this. You fucking know!" he shouted

"I do, indeed"

"Then why? Why the fuck you want to do this? You know I can't…"

"All that I know is that you need to do something about that girl…"

"I can't…"

"Yes you can, you are just afraid!" the Elder Brother said, in a firm and commanding tone Sandor never heard before. He remembered the Elder Brother was a soldier in the past, but that part of him seemed to be long buried since he met him. It was a surprise to see that side of the old monk. After a few moments the Elder Brother continued, in a warmer tone: "You know there are unsolved issues between you and the girl, and the only way to put your past to rest and heal is facing them"

"What if I don't want to heal? What if I want to stay like this forever?"

"Well, that would be your choice, of course. I cannot force you to do this. The decision is all yours. But I can advise you, and my advice is: talk to her."

Sandor didn't answer. The Elder Brother continued:

"I will not force you to do this. If you don't want to go, then don't. I will send someone else to take her home. But if you are willing, she wants to leave at first light. You just have to be there by then."

Sandor nodded and left without a word. Part of him felt betrayed, but there was another, bigger part that knew the Elder Brother was right. The ghost of Sansa Stark would haunt him forever if he didn't do anything about it. So the next morning he was up and ready to go an hour before sunrise. He saddled Stranger, fed him and patted him. He thought he could saddle her mare, so she wouldn't have to share a saddle with him, and bring her back to the Isle afterwards, but then he remembered the Little Bird was an awful rider and decided it was best for her to ride with him. _"That's just it. No ulterior motive"_ he said to himself. The Little Bird arrived shortly after, already cloaked and carrying her belongings. She didn't seemed surprised to see him, and greeted him like the polite little lady she was. He raised her to the saddle before mounting.

The ride back to the healer's house proved to be even harder than the previous. Not only he had to feel her slim body so close to his own, but the Little Bird decided to chirp all the way back, as if trying to enroll him in conversation, even though he was supposed to be one of the so called _silent brothers_. He listened her rambling about herbs and medicine and all of the wonderful things that she learned, and how she expected to become a great healer one day. He didn't said a word, but that didn't seem to damp her enthusiasm. When they arrived at the village, he stopped and dismounted, for the Little Bird was supposed to buy some supplies before going home. He followed her around while she went on her business. When she was done, they went to the Inn where she would deliver some tonics in exchange for fresh food. The innkeeper greeted her:

"Alysanne, dear, ya back. What did ya bring this time?"

"I have some tonics here. This one if to bring down a fever, and this two are for stomach aches. I also have just the thing for your pain in the back, Eyrik."

"Hah, just what I need. You and Lyara always working wonders, aye? Well, I have that cheese and wine for ya, lass. Bessa will prepare them. Wanna a drink while ya wait?"

"Aye, that would be fine"

"How's old Lyara, heh? Still the same foul-mouthed lassie, aye?" the innkeeper asked while pouring wine on horn cups for the Little Bird and Sandor.

"That she is" Sansa answered chuckling. "We went to the Quiet Isle to tend to a patient. She will remain there for a while, but I am to return home"

"Good, that's good"

"Oh, how's Lilly? I don't see her"

"Oh, she is fine. She is with her sister today. Now, lass, I need to go. I have patrons to tend to. Help yourself, aye?"

"Thank you, Eyrik."

The innkeeper nodded and went on with his business, leaving him and the Little Bird alone. It was impossible not to realize how much she changed: Sandor never thought he would see the Little Bird so comfortable in such an environment. She was raised as a sheltered little lady, always having someone to tend to her and do her bidding, and there she was, conducting business with innkeepers as if she did that her whole life. Sandor was amazed, and willing to learn exactly how much Sansa had changed since they parted ways.

The girl seemed to be at ease, but Sandor had been a soldier his whole life, and that part of him never really left. His instincts told him something was off, so he surveyed the place, looking for potential threats. And then he saw a group of three soldiers sitting on a table nearby, suspiciously looking at them. His hand went for his sword, but he remembered he didn't have one, not since he started to pose as a brown brother. He cursed under his breath, remembering that he even left the knife he used to carry on Stranger's saddle. After a while one of the soldiers approached and Sandor tensed, readying himself for what was to come. The guy stopped and looked at Sansa:

"It's you. You are her, right? The bastard girl we are looking for..."

"What?" she asked turning to face him, and when she saw his face her eyes grew big. _"She recognizes him"_ Sandor thought. The girl was clutching her dress tighly. _"Whoever he is, she is afraid"_ he thought.

The Little Bird shook her head, saying:

"I have no idea what you are talking about, ser"

"Oh, you do. You know who I am, girl. Your father sent me, along with many others, to look for you. I don't know what the hell happened or why you fled, but I am sure he can forgive you, if you come back with us now"

"Clearly you have mistaken me for someone else…"

"Look, girl, I don't have time…" he started, but was interrupted by a large blonde woman who arrived with a satchel and said:

"Here, Alysanne. I put everything in there for ya. That should last you a moon or so, if ya need more just come by. Oh…" she said, in a hushed tone "I put some bread for ya there as well. Just don't tell Eyrik, ya know the old boar is stingy as hell"

"Thank you, Bessa. Tell Lilly I came by."

"Aye, lass, I will."

"Now, if you excuse me, ser, I have to return home. My mother is waiting for me. Have a good day" she said with a nod, and hurried outside. Sandor followed her, intrigued. The soldier said her father was looking for her, but her father had been dead for years now. One of the soldiers had the falcon of house Arryn painted over his shield. But Lysa Arryn was dead, and her sickly son was just a child. It was no secret that Littlefinger was commanding the Vale. Then realization dawned upon him _"Of course. That fucker…"_ Sansa's mysterious disappearance, shortly after Joffrey's murder, had to be Littlefinger's doing. That's where she had been hiding, until she somehow escaped. _"She doesn't seem so keen to go back"_. So she wouldn't, Sandor would make sure of that. When they reached Stranger he hurriedly strapped her satchel to the saddle, before mounting with her. He commanded Stranger into a fast pace, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. _"That won't work"_ he thought. _"They just have to ask some questions in the village and then they will be flocking to her cabin in no time"._ He would have to worry about it later. First, he had to get her home safely.

The Little Bird was trembling all along. She was silent all the way back to her home, and Sandor wondered what Littlefinger had done to make her so afraid. He had no love for Littlefinger: after all, the fucker was the greatest liar he ever met, and Sandor hated liars. And the way Baelish used to look at Sansa never escaped Sandor's notice. She was the spitting image of her mother, and it was common knowledge how Littlefinger had been so smitten with Catelyn Tully that he challenged an experienced Stark warrior to a duel. The outcome couldn't have been worst for Littlefinger: not only had he lost the love of his life, but he was also humiliated. Maybe he wanted Sansa as a surrogate for her mother. Could it be that was why she fled him? Nonetheless, there was no use wondering now. His mind was mission oriented: _First_ , get Little Bird home. _Then_ , deal with the fuckers, including Littlefinger.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the cabin. Sandor dismounted and helped the Little Bird out of the saddle, giving her all of her belongs before mounting again. He was certain those soldiers would come after her, which meant he had to go after them first. The Little Bird seemed to snap out of a trance when he kicked Stranger's flank, for she screamed after him:

"Wait! Please, wait!"

He stopped , not turning at her direction. She approached him and said:

"Who are you? Please, tell me, _ser_ "

He smiled at her choice of words, although she couldn't see him. He looked down at her, and said, before riding away:

"I am no _ser_ , Little Bird".

He didn't turned to see her. There was no point looking back now, for he had to concentrate on the task ahead. They rode fast, so they had to be at least a few minutes ahead of the soldiers of the Vale. They would come from the main road, no doubt it was the fastest way, and besides they didn't have to avoid been seen. There was a clearing less than a mile away from the cabin, he remembered. If he was smart enough, he could take them down there. He didn't really had any good weapon, but he had to improvise: the knife he carried could be strapped into a wood branch, making it into a lance of sorts. If he could surprise them, and get at least one of them with the lance, then Stranger could take care of another one, leaving him to fight the remaining man. Yes, they were better equipped, but Sandor wasn't called the Hound for nothing. He hurried through his preparations, removed his cowl, chose a hiding spot for his and another one for Stranger, and waited. A few moments later, he heard the noise of hooves. The only problem was… there were four of them, not three, as he assumed.

That was a game change. But he had no other choice. Those bastards were coming for the Little Bird, and he was the only thing standing between them and her. And he would not fail her again, no matter what. His blood was boiling, and he had a death grip on his lance. He could see them approaching, but waited until they were so close that he wouldn't miss. One of them, the one who spoke to Sansa, was riding in the front, with a red haired man riding at his side. The others followed on foot, probably squires or something. When they reached his range distance, he threw his makeshift lance at the red haired soldier, hitting him in the neck. It took only a moment for the others to realize what had happened, but soon they were drawing their weapons. Sandor whistled and Stranger came at charging speed at the other rider, knocking him to the ground. _"Two down, two more to go"_ he thought. He charged at the direction of the fallen soldier, and took his sword. It wasn't as broad as his previous one, but it would do the trick. While Stranger was stomping upon one the soldiers, Sandor was left to face the remaining two:

"You know who I am, right? You heard about the burnt Clegane dog"

"You… you should be dead" said the man who spoke to Sansa. He was older, better equiped, probably the leader of the party.

"Aye, I should. And soon you will be"

They both launched at the same time, but Sandor masterfully avoided their strikes, managing to wound the leader in the process. _"That should slow him down a bit"_ he thought. The other, a young and trembling boy, tried unsuccessfully to launch an attack at Sandor. _"He is just a lad, doesn't even know what he is doing"_ he thought. The boy tried to attack again, but was way too slow, giving Sandor a breach to slice open his abdomen. He fell to the ground, screaming. When Sandor turned to face the other soldier he felt a pang of pain into his side. He grabbed his throat and growled, throwing him to the floor. There was a cut in his belly, bleeding profusely.

"Please, don't…" the soldier screamed, before Sandor slashed him open.

After it was done he surveyed the scene before him: they were all pretty much dead, except for the one Stranger stomped over, who was still breathing, but barely. Sandor gave him the gift of mercy, not wanting to risk. He mounted Stranger and tried to follow the other two horses, finding them by the river nearby. After some time he managed to tie the two of them to Stranger's saddle, returning with the three horses to the glade. He knew he couldn't leave the bodies like that, so he started to work: he tossed two of the bodies onto Stranger's saddle, and the remaining two at the saddle of their horses. The pain Sandor was feeling was excruciating, but it was vital that no bodies would be left to tell the tale, especially so close to the cabin. Sandor knew that eventually Sansa would have to leave, that it wouldn't be safe for her to stay there, but for now she would be fine. He returned to her house, tripping all over. His wound was bleeding, and he felt weaker with every step. If he managed to get back to the Little Bird, she would know how to fix him. His wound was hurting so much he could barely stand, but he was so close now. He finally saw the front of the little cabin, just as his forces were about to fade away. Suddenly the front door swung open, while the Little Bird ran into him.

"Sandor!" she screamed.

"Little Bird…" he said, just as the world went black. Her scream of terror was the last thing he heard before falling into the void.

 _Don't you love cliffhangers? Well, I do ;)_

xX Aya Wolf Xx


	6. Sansa

**A/N:** thanks for the kind reviews. Your support made writing this fic so much more fun! Oh, and I will consider posting this to AO3 as well, I just need some time to create an account and learn how to manage it. Now, to the chapter!

 **Sansa**

When Sansa saw the soldier from the Vale at the inn, her heart went cold. Of course she recognized him. When she was living at the Vale she would often watch the men training in the yard, along with Myranda Royce and some of the girls. It was one of the activities she would turn to in order to fill her days, and Myranda made it so much more fun than it actually was, with some lewd comments about the men. Sansa Stark would turn red at some of the things Myranda said, but Alayne Stone would just roll her eyes and laugh. She remembered that man because one of the kitchen maids was sweet on him, and that particular girl would often treat Myranda and Alayne with disdain because of the attention they received from him. Not that she wanted any of that, of course. Pretty men in pretty armor would have swept her over her feet in the past, but nowadays she felt nothing about them. Oh, how much she changed.

After her escape from the Vale she thought she was safe, that Lannisters, Littlefinger, Lords and Kings were all way behind her. She should have known better. She should have known that whatever peace she found was only temporary, for somehow her old life would be back to haunt her. She tried to get away as fast as she could from them, back to the cozy little cabin that had become her home. Her thoughts were racing, and she felt terrified and alone. Yet, when she mounted the big black horse with the Gravedigger besides her, Sansa felt safer, comforted.

Her mind was a maze, and she felt numb. Thoughts and memories were flooding her, taking her back to her days in Kings Landing, when she felt as helpless and small as a trapped Little Bird. When she found Lyara, her old fears and insecurities slowly faded: her confidence in her self-worth grew by each day, while she learned how to be strong and useful, and not fragile and hopeless. Her dreams changed as well: instead of dreams of becoming the Lady of a big castle and ruling a household, she would dream about living in a small cozy cabin, with a beautiful and lively garden, and people flocking from all around the place seeking a cure from her hands. "Alysanne" would be a renowned healer, like Lyara, known for her wisdom, confidence, and kindness. All these dreams were shattered and turned to dust in the blink of an eye. She barely felt anything, and the only thing preventing her from panicking was the solid presence of the Gravedigger besides her.

They reached the house quite quickly, and the brother hastily dismounted and helped her out of the saddle, before mounting again. Then in dawned on her: why the haste? Since their encounter with the soldiers, the Gravedigger somehow seemed to understand her need to get away, and she was even more puzzled by that. Her thoughts were a mess: since she saw him, she couldn't stop thinking about the Hound, and even more after her talk with the Elder Brother the previous night. And now, when she once again found herself in danger, the Gravedigger was there, saving her, racing her back home, away from the men who would hurt her. But _why_? Her heart somehow sensed the truth, but her mind was wary of the dangers of fooling herself, and needed to know for certain. So before he could leave, she ran after him, and screamed:

"Wait! Please, wait!"

He stopped, not turning at her direction. She approached him and said:

"Please, who are you. Please, tell me, ser."

Time seemed to stand still for the moment, as he seemed to consider her question. She didn't realized she was holding her breath. After what seemed like an eternity he turned to her, and said:

"I am no ser, Little Bird"

Her heart skipped a beat and she found it hard to breathe. After Blackwater and everything that happened ever since, Sansa thought she would never hear that voice again: coarse, dark and yet somehow comforting, like everything about him. She thought he was lost forever, but somehow he came to her rescue once again. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she whispered:

"He is alive" and kept repeating "he is alive. He is alive".

Unlike her, Sandor knew exactly who she was. Why he never said anything? He had opportunities to talk to her, alone, and yet he didn't. Could it be that he has taken vows? How did he found himself in the Quiet Isle in the first place? It was ironic, to say the least, that someone as unsympathetic about the Gods as Sandor Clegane would end up living with the Silent Brothers. Sansa knew nothing about what happened to him after he left. The Elder Brother said he arrived at the Isle dying. _"What happened to you?"_ she thought. She needed to see him again, and talk to him. She was unsure exactly what she would say. _"I missed you. I thought about you often since you left. I thought about you on my wedding night. I kept your cloak, and I dreamed about your kiss…"_ Maybe not that last part, she realized. That wasn't something a proper lady should say about anyone, especially someone who wasn't her lawful husband. _"But I am a lady no more"_ , Sansa thought.

She slowly entered the little house, still musing over what just happened. Sandor Clegane was alive, and not only alive, he was also very close to her. When Lyara returned, she would ask her to go back to the Island. She would have to make up an excuse, but she would return. He left so quickly she didn't had time to talk to him. _"Why would he leave so quickly…"_ she thought _"…Oh no! No, he wouldn't… he can't…"_ she thought, panicking. Sansa was so absorbed in the realization that the Hound was back that she forgot about the soldiers from the Vale. They were also there, and sooner or later they would return to find her: that man wasn't convinced Sansa wasn't the _'bastard daughter'_ of Lord Baelish. No, he did recognize her, and he would do anything to get her back to the Vale, even if it was against her will. Maybe he would do even more: he could take her, violate her, and return her to the Vale claiming that she was already deflowered before he found her, certain that no one would doubt his word. _"No one ever doubts the word of men"_ she thought. " _This world really belongs to them, we women just happen to live here"_ she thought bitterly. But Sandor was her protector, he always has been. He took her home in a hurry because he noticed something was off, and now… now he was returning to fight the men who would harm her. _"Oh Gods, please"_ Sansa prayed _"let him be safe. Protect him once again, I beg you"._

Sansa had no idea how long passed since he left her there, but then she heard the distinctive sound of hooves. Her heart stopped: could be them, or him. She looked outside through the crack in one of the windows: when she saw a brown robe, she left out a sigh and hurried back outside:

"Sandor!" she said, running to him. His hood was gone, and she saw his burnt face for the first time since Blackwater. But something was off: he has a hand to his side and was limping even more than before… and then she saw blood over his hand.

"Little Bird" he said, before collapsing to the ground.

"No!" she screamed, running to his side "Sandor, wake up! Please, wake up". She started to inspect him, finding a nasty cut on his left side. _"Oh, no"_ she thought. Ripping a piece of fabric from her cloak she fastened the wound quickly to stop the bleeding. She would have to carry him to the house. Sansa realized there were bodies over Stranger's saddle and over the other two horses as well: the soldiers of the inn, apparently. _"He got them all"_ she thought. Not wanting to waste any time, she only tied the horses to a tree nearby. _"I can deal with that later"_ she thought.

"Why couldn't you pass out inside the house, your big fool?" she said, sighing. Mustering all of her strength, Sansa started to drag him to the house. He was heavy as a bull, and it took her a lot of effort to get him through the door. Once inside, she dragged him over to a spot next to the fireplace. Grabbing a few pelts, she tried to make a little bedding for him, so he wouldn't be as uncomfortable. She started a fire to boil some water, and started to gather the things she would need: clothes for bandages, wine, and milk of the poppy, some herbs, a needle and thread. Part of her wanted Lyara to be there to help her, but she knew there was no time to waste. She would have to work fast and she would have to work alone. _"I won't fail him",_ Sansa thought, as she started to treat him.

First, she had to assess the damage: she removed his clothes to reveal his hairy and muscular abdomen, so she could see the wound. It was big and nasty, but it hadn't made any internal damage. She poured water and wine over the wound to clean it. He flinched, and opened his eyes, and Sansa tried to soothe him:

"It is okay, Sandor. It's alright. This is going to hurt. Drink this" she said, giving him the milk of the poppy.

"Little Bird…"

"Hush, Sandor. Just drink it" she said, and he conceded.

While she waited for the milk of the poppy to take effect she prepared a solution to soak the bandages with, which would help in the healing process and prevent the wound from get infected. Then, she started to stitch him, carefully and slowly, as she learned from Septa Mordane. It was a delicate work, so she took her sweet time doing it. After she finished she checked on him to see if there were any signs of a fever. There wasn't any, which was good. She used the water and wine to clean the wound once again before she applied the bandages, before inspecting her handiwork. She thought Lyara would be proud of her: it was the first time she tended to someone all by herself, and she did a pretty damn good job at it. The only thing that troubled her was that he lost too much blood for her liking, which meant that he would be weak on his feet for a long time. Sansa eyed the cot were she usually slept in with the corner of her eye, thinking that maybe he would be more comfortable lying there, but decided against it. Any effort could make her stitches to open up, and the bleeding would restart. It was best to keep him there until he was stronger. She would fetch more pelts and clothes if needed be.

After checking on him again, she decided he was stable enough to be left alone for a moment. She went outside, to the horses and tried to think about what to do: she had four bodies and a wounded man inside the house. The later hopefully could be explained: the brown brother left her at home, and returned wounded after a while, due to a meeting with one of the many bandit parties raiding the Riverlands. She could only pray that was an acceptable explanation. The four bodies, however, would be a lot harder to explain. _"I have to bury them"_ she thought _"I have no other choice"._ Sighing, she looked for a shovel and decided on an inconspicuous spot to plant those bastards. There was a small patch of land between the small house and the hennery, big enough for the four graves. Sansa started to dig there, wanting to get it done as quickly as possible so she could return to Sandor. She didn't have to dig very deep, just enough to hide the bodies until Sandor woke. Then he would do his thing. After all, he was the Gravedigger at the Quiet Isle.

It took her longer than she wanted, but it was done. It wasn't a good work, but it would serve. Neither Lyara nor anyone else would suspect at first glance that there were four bodies hidden there. Then, Sansa took Stranger and the other two horses to the back of the house, and fed them. It surprised her to see the black stallion considerably tamer than before, when he wouldn't even let the stable boys tend to him. It was almost nightfall when she finally returned to Sandor's side.

The night was uneventful. He slept for the most part, under the effect of the milk of the poppy. He talked a lot in his sleep, and her name found itself in his lips more often than not _. "I wonder what his dreams look like"_ she thought. She dreamt of him often, since he departed Kings Landing. In some of her dreams he was angry, and hateful, and he scared her. But there were times when she dreamt of him rescuing her from her terrible ordeals: The Hound coming to her rescue during the bread riots, the Hound stopping Joffrey from stripping and beating her at the court, the Hound storming her mock wedding with Tyrion Lannister, the Hound throwing Littlefinger out of the Moon Door… her dreams were mostly of him saving her, and when she heard her name escaping his lips in dream state she wondered what was _she_ doing in _his_ dreams. _"Was he thinking of me as much as I thought of him in the time since our parting?"_

He woke in the morning, still dizzy from the lingering effect of the milk of the poppy. Sansa checking the bandages when he opened his eyes

"Are you alright, Sandor? Are you in pain?"

He sounded weak, but his voice was clear when he answered:

"A little… Did you fix me?"

"I did. The cut wasn't too deep, but it required some stitches. And you lost too much blood. You won't be able to walk for a few days at least"

"No… I have to… the soldiers…"

He started to fuss and twitch, but Sansa covered his arm with her small hand and said:

"I've taken care of it. It wasn't a work worth of the Gravedigger, but we should be fine for a few days. As long as it doesn't rain, that is…"

"You did?" he eyed her suspiciously. Sansa found it amusing, but wasn't surprised by his reaction. After all, the girl she used to be - the girl he once knew - wasn't capable of something like that. She chuckled and answered:

"I did. I suppose that digging graves doesn't seem like something you would picture me doing…"

"No, Little Bird"

"Well, I'm afraid I am not the same bird I was before. Perhaps I spent too much time along falcons and mockingbirds…"

"Tell me about it…" he asked. She sighed and shook her head:

"Maybe another time. Right now I should be working on getting you on your feet again. Let's start with… soup. You need to eat to regain your strength." Sansa said, leaving for the kitchen. She knew exactly what he needed to recover quickly: it was one of Lyara's recipes, one of the many the healer shared with Sansa in the last months. She had some of the ingredients in the kitchen, and gathered the rest from the garden. The soup consisted of water, flour, butter, garlic, onions, potatoes, carrots and meat. She worked quite quickly with the soup: smash the garlic and the onions, steam it in an iron pot with some butter. Then add flour, mix, and add water. When the mixture was boiling, add cooked potatoes, carrots and meat and leave it in the fire for a few minutes. When the soup was ready she poured it in a small bowl and returned to his side.

It was strange, feeding him like that. She remembered of the times in the past when she was fed, when she was sick, usually by her own mother, or Old Nan. It was an intimate gesture, and she certainly never pictured herself doing that to Sandor Clegane, of all people. She half expected him to be a difficult patient, but he proved to be quite well-behaved: he didn't complain about anything, did everything that she asked, which surprised her to some extent. The only exceptions were his usual cursing – whenever he felt pain, just before Sansa gave him something to dull the ache – and his requests for wine – which he did at regular basis, despite Sansa's protests that wine wouldn't help his treatment. On that first day he would sometimes make questions, trying to figure out how Sansa came to that place, but she didn't felt like telling that story just yet. He was more open than her: after the diner, as she was checking on his wound, he told her about his life after his desertion, about his encounter with the Brotherhood Without Banners, and about his time with Arya. He told her they were too late for the Red Wedding, and that afterwards he and Arya parted ways, but his tale ended there. He didn't said anything about how he arrived at the Quiet Isle, nor about the rumors that he was dead… she figured he only shared the part of his story that concerned her sister because he felt she needed to know that Arya was alive. Sansa was grateful for that small gesture. Everyone pictured Sandor Clegane as a mean and ugly bastard, but Sansa felt like she knew better: she knew that despite all of his flaws he was capable of kindness. He wasn't just a mad dog, but rather a complex and conflicted man, and Sansa believed she was the only person who ever saw him for who he was.

"Thank you for telling me" she said honestly "I had a feeling that Arya was alive. She has always been stronger than me. It's no surprise she made it so far by herself"

"I don't think she is stronger than you, Little Bird. I know both of you, and I can tell you that you are equally strong. It's just… you and your sister have a different kind of strength, that's all…"

"You think so?"

"I know"

Sansa smiled and returned to her task of changing his bandages. It felt good to have him in her life once more. Yes, she knew that his mean persona was still there, and the he would still bark and bite if provoked, like a stray dog. But when Sansa looked into his eyes, she saw his old rage was somewhat mulled. Sansa decided she liked his new self, and she could only hope that he liked hers as well. It was a whole new journey, one that she was eager to take. Sansa prayed to the gods that Lyara wouldn't return so soon. She needed some time alone with Sandor to figure out wat kind of relationship they would have now. They weren't in the Red Keep anymore, so their masks of traitor's daughter and king's dog were useless: there were no pretenses there, no lies, no hidden enemies and absolutely no one to impress. They could just be themselves - scarred and damaged as they were, but themselves, nonetheless. Sansa wasn't sure were that road would take them, but she hoped they could emerge from it as, at least, friends. And besides, she needed time to figure out what she would tell Lyara. After all, Sansa was alone in the cabin with a big and scarred man. _"Oh"_ she thought _"it will be so hard to explain that"_

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	7. Sandor

**_A/N:_ **_this is a bit of a POV version of the last chapter because I thought I had to give a better view at Sandor's feelings before I could move on with the story. Things will progress more quickly from now on._

 **Sandor**

The first time he woke after he passed out outside her cabin, Sandor felt a pang of pain. Sansa was beside him, soothing him back to sleep:

"It is okay, Sandor. It's alright. This is going to hurt. Drink this" she said. He felt weak due to the pain and exhaustion of the combat, but he struggled to talk:

"Little Bird…"

"Hush, Sandor. Just drink it" she said, and he conceded. After he drank the concoction he felt his limbs becoming heavy, as consciousness slipped him and he fell once again into dark oblivion. Only this time around his sleep was filled with dreams. The Little Bird was there, of course, but not alone. First he saw her dancing in a meadow and picking flowers, her silk gown floating with the breeze of spring, her laughter filling the air. Sansa was just like she has been once, when he first saw her at Winterfell: young, sweet and carefree, like a portrait of the Maiden. She was everything he always thought he loathed: beautiful, young, and innocent, and yet he was attracted to her like a moth to a flame. He never saw her like that again, not after everything that transpired in Kings Landing, but in his dreams he could remember her just like she was before. Then his dream shifted to a horrid nightmare: the Little Bird was at Kings Landing, surrounded by enemies who would strip her naked and beat her up. Joffrey was there, as well as Boros, Trant, Littlefinger and even Cersei. He was paralyzed, not able to do anything as they merciless hit Sansa. She would cry his name and beg him to save her, but he was frozen in place. That's when he realized that there was a tall and broad man among Sansa's enemies: The Mountain. As his brother approached her, Sandor would scream, but his body was still paralyzed. Then he would rape her, again and again and again, as Sandor watched unable to do anything. Afterwards she would appear before him, bloodied and accusing:

" _It's your fault"_ she would say " _It is your entire fault. Everything that happened to me was your fault"_

" _I tried to save you"_ he would answer.

" _But you failed"_ Sansa said. And she kept repeating _"You failed me"._

He woke from that dream to the Little Bird tending to him. It took him a moment to process the reality: _that_ was the real Sansa, not the one in his dream. She wasn't bloodied, and certainly not accusing him of failing her. _"Maybe not just yet"_ he thought _"but you failed her. You know it, and she knows it. If you have been able to protect her maybe she could be with her family now. Who knows what could have changed if you stole her away from Kings Landing the moment you realized that place was going to be her downfall?"_. Nonetheless, the Little Bird seemed concerned about his well-being, for she asked:

"Are you alright, Sandor? Are you in pain?"

"A little… Did you fix me?"

"I did. The cut wasn't too deep, but it required some stitches. And you lost too much blood. You won't be able to walk for a few days at least"

He remembered the reason he was there in the first place and started to fuss. He couldn't stay abed for days! He had to take care of these bodies. Everything he tried to do would be for nothing if the bodies were found, so he tried to rise as he said:

"No… I have to… the soldiers…"

"I've taken care of it. It wasn't a work worth of the Gravedigger, but we should be fine for a few days. As long as it doesn't rain, that is…"

"You did?" He asked, genuinely surprised. He never assumed the Little Bird would do such a thing. She has always been so delicate it seemed almost impossible to imagine her performing such a dirty task. But then, he knew she was somehow changed by whatever ordeals she went through since he left her.

"I did. I suppose that digging graves doesn't seem like something you would picture me doing…"

"No, Little Bird" he answered honestly.

"Well, I'm afraid I am not the same bird I was before. Perhaps I spent too much time along falcons and mockingbirds…"

"Tell me about it…" he asked. She sighed and shook her head:

"Maybe another time. Right now I should be working on getting you on your feet again. Let's start with… soup. You need to eat to regain your strength." Sansa said, leaving for the kitchen.

Spending time with the Little Bird in that cabin gave him a whole new image of the person she became after Blackwater. She was stronger, more confident. She gave him commands, and despite his beastly nature he found himself obeying her every time: _"drink this", "be still", "breathe in", "don't move", "eat", "sleep"._ No matter the order, he would do just as she ordered. He askeed her questions while she was tending to his wound, about her time at the Vale, but Sansa avoided saying anything. He, on the other hand, felt he needed to tell her about her sister. The Little Bird deserved to know that the she-wolf was alive, or at least that she has been when he last saw her. He didn't have doubts that the girl was still breathing, though. She was a little fiend and a pain in the arse most of the time, but the girl had spirit and was quite handy with her "needle". He was certain that she was still alive, no matter where. _"Bravos, most likely"_ he thought and wondered if he should share that piece of information with Sansa just yet. Ultimately he decided against it; there would be time, he hoped, to tell her later. The Little Bird seemed grateful that he told her about her sister and rewarded him with the most sincere smile he ever seen in her face. The she-wolf was everything that was left of her family, beside her bastard brother, and Sandor knew it meant the world to the Little Bird to know about her fate.

Still, when he went to sleep that night he had the same disturbing dream about the Little Bird. He woke with a start, breathing heavily. Apparently the Little Bird was a light sleeper, for she woke up to the noise and hurried to his side:

"What is it? What happened?" she asked, startled. "What are you feeling?"

"It's nothing" he asked gruffly. "An old wound that bugs me sometimes"

"Well, tell me about it" she said "Maybe I can help. I am not as good as Lyara, but she taught me a great deal about medicines for about every pain you might have"

"Not to this one" he said, turning to his side.

"But…" the Little Bird said and in that moment he felt the Hound resurfacing, as he snapped at her like he used to do before:

"Bloody Hells, I said no! Just leave me be" he shouted angrily. Sandor regretted his action the next moment, when he saw the hurt in her blue eyes. But before he could say anything to try to make amends, Sansa sighed and said:

"Well, if you won't let me help then you should try to rest. Do you want me to give you something to help you sleep?"

"Little Bird…" he said, but was interrupted:

"Do you want it or not?"

"No" he answered.

"Good. Goodnight then, Sandor" Sansa said, returning to her cot. As he saw her retreating form, he felt his old anger come back, directed not to her, but to himself. No matter what he did, he was always hurting her somehow. Not only was he unable to defend her from her enemies, he also was unable to defend her from himself. When he was at the Quiet Isle he would often visit the Elder Brother to talk about his many issues. He still didn't know exactly how the old man managed to reach him and earn his trust, but whatever the old monk did it worked. Sandor wasn't an open person, he never really shared his thoughts and memories with other people, but the Elder Brother was an exception. He felt comfortable enough to share with him his most intimate secrets: the reason behind the old and enduring hate he felt towards his brother, the origin of his self-hate, the guilt he felt over the Little Bird. The old man would listen carefully and often give some advice, which was sometimes met with silence, sometimes with brooding rage. Nevertheless, no matter how Sandor treated him, the Elder Brother would always keep his serene countenance and the next day Sandor would be back to talk to him once again. With the passing of the days, as he shared his experiences with the old man, Sandor would turn to rage less and less. It was almost like the Elder Brother was somehow healing his soul, like he healed his body. But despite all of that, he was still the same man and although his hate was restrained it never really left: that would always be a part of him, just like his hideous scars.

Sandor didn't get any more sleep that night. The next morning the Little Bird woke bright and early to check his bandages and feed him. To see her performing mundane tasks was another thing he was getting used to: back in Kings Landing the girl was unable even to dress herself without the help of a maid and here she was, fetching water, cleaning the house, tending to animals, cooking. He still could see her as she was supposed to be, as a Lady in a great castle, ruling the household, receiving guests and parading around in beautiful gowns, but he could almost as easily picture her living in a small cabin, donning a simple wool gown and the healers apron, brewing potions and treating the smallfolk. When the Little Bird brought him his meal he said:

"About last night…"

"It's alright; I had no right to pry. You are entitled to your privacy and I cannot blame you for that. Some things are… difficult to share"

"I shouldn't have shouted at you like that"

"It's alright. It wouldn't be the first time"

"Yes" he said, feeling again all the guilt from his horrible dream fill his thoughts once again "It wouldn't be. That's one of too many regrets"

The Little Bird seemed surprised and eyed him quizzically:

"I never imagined you were the kind of man that harbors regrets."

"Why not?"

"Well, you always do as you please. I know that you have always been at service of lords and doing their bidding, but I never thought any of the things they ordered you to do would bring you remorse. You said once that killing is the sweetest thing…"Sansa answered, avoiding his eyes. Despite her newfound confidence he felt that somehow her old nature – that of a shy and delicate maiden – was still there, just like his old crudeness.

"Aye, I did. But I mostly repent things that I haven't done"

"Like what?" Sansa asked, looking him in the eyes. At the sight of her big blue eyes he found it difficult to lie, so he settled for the truth:

"Not being... nice to you, for once"

And then she laughed – really laughed – a sweet and rich sound feeling the air of the little cabin:

"The Hound being nice? Gods, I cannot even imagine that…"

"Well, it ain't bloody easy, that's for sure"

"I can imagine." She said, smiling again. Silence fell, as she resumed feeding him. Sandor felt strong enough to do it himself, but he had no heart to tell it to her. Doing that would only cause him to lose his best excuse to be close to the Little Bird. Never before he imagined that he would be fed by Sansa Stark herself, but now that it happened he couldn't complain. After a few moments he spoke again, with a deep and serious tone:

"I mostly regret not being able to help you. Back then…"

Sansa stopped what she was doing and looked at him, as if he sprouted a second head:

"I don't know what you mean"

Sandor looked away from her before answering:

"You sure do, girl. Back in Kings Landing… They would strip you, beat you and I did nothing"

"Of course you did. You saved me"

"I did no such thing" he answered with a nervous chuckle, still avoiding her eyes. Sansa reached out to his face – the ruined side – and turned his head to look back at her, while she spoke:

"Yes you did. In the battlements, when Joffrey took me to show me my father's head, I was ready to throw myself at him. I didn't care what happened to me, as long as I was able to take him with me. You stepped in and stopped me. I know it was your job saving him, but you saved me as well…" she said, her voice full of emotion. "And you often gave me advice on how to deal with them. In the bread riots you came to my rescue, saving me from pain and death… even when Joffrey got me stripped, it was your cloak covering me. Two days ago you killed four men to prevent them from taking me, even got wounded in the process. How can you say you didn't save me? It was all you ever did."

Sandor closed his eyes and sighed, letting all the pain and shame he felt in the last months wash over him. No matter what Sansa said, it wasn't enough, it was never enough. He could have done better, he should have done better. He didn't realized it back then, but in the time since his near death he found himself revisiting the past and he found that whatever he did for her was too little too late. So he told her:

"It wasn't enough"

With his eyes closed like that he couldn't see the Little Bird, but then she grabbed his big hand between her slender ones and brought it close to her heart, as she said:

"Yes, it was. It was more than enough for me to mourn your supposed death and pray every night that you found the peace you never had in this world in the afterlife"

Sandor was speechless by her admission. When he was lying there, dying, he imagined no one would mourn his parting. If much there would be some celebrating that the world was one monster shorter. Yet somehow the girl he regretted not saving apparently saw him as a savior of sorts, to the point of being distressed by his death. She continued:

"You have always been the only one willing to save me. In the night of the battle I prayed for you: I prayed to the Gods to keep you safe, and for the Mother to… take away your rage. And when I heard you were dead I cried. I actually cried for many nights afterwards."

This confession surprised him even more. He hasn't been recipient of many tears or prayers – not after his sweet sister died. He certainly never expected anyone else to utter prayers for his safety, or cry over him. To know that the Little Bird genuinely felt about his "death" was overwhelming, and Sandor felt something stirring inside him. He wasn't quite sure what _that_ was – he had no name for it yet. Instead he focused on the present, and answered honestly:

"You wasted your tears on the likes of me, Little Bird"

"Well, they were mine to shed, right? And I chose to cry them over you." She answered, smiling. Sansa gave his hand a final squeeze before she hurriedly stood and muttered something about tending to the animals. As he saw her leaving, Sandor thought he never seen her more beautiful.

The rest of the day passed quite quickly: winter was approaching, and with it the days were getting shorter and the nights longer and colder. Sansa did her chores while he was left resting. After midday he tried to rise by himself, only to fall due to his weakness. Sansa scolded him like he was a 4 year old boy and not a grown man, but ultimately helped him stand. He still felt weak and dizzy, but at least he was on his feet again. Sansa decided he would sleep in the cot that night. He protested at first, but then she assured him she would be sleeping at Lyara's bed, not on the floor, and he conceded it. After they had dinner Sansa helped him to the cot, checking on the wound once again. The stitches were still in place, and it was healing nicely. After a while she broke the silence:

"You know, I thought of you often after you left. I used to wonder what would have happened if I left with you that night"

"I used to wonder the same."

"It's strange, isn't it? We took different roads; we have been in different places, with different people. Yet somehow, our fates were brought together once again" she said, with a faraway look on her face. He chuckled at that and turned to self-loathing, as usual:

"Well, what a bad luck you have"

Then the Little Bird rolled her eyes in a _not-very-ladylike-way_ , sighed and said:

"Stop being like that. I told you already, you have done more than enough for me. I owe you more than you realize"

"You owe me nothing, girl"

"If you say so… but know this: I do have regrets on my own. If I could go back in time and change things, I would have. I wouldn't ever go to Kings Landing in the first place. If I could erase that part of my life, I would." She said, and for a moment he wished she could do just that. She didn't deserved all the pain and heartbreak that befallen her after she left her home. But the Little Bird wasn't done yet, for she continued: "And yet, I know that even if I was back in Winterfell with my family I would feel as if a part of me was missing. Despite everything I endured, if it wasn't for Kings Landing I wouldn't have you as a… friend. And I would hate to lose you, Sandor Clegane"

He didn't have an answer to her. In the space of a day the Little Bird surprised him in more ways he thought possible. Apparently she didn't hate him as he assumed. Yes, they seemed to have a very distinct view of things: he always felt as he failed her somehow, yet Sansa saw him as a friend and a savior. Part of him – the part of him that was self-loathing and suspicious of the whole world – told him it was just a ruse, that she was lying to him like everyone else. But there was another, bigger part of him that knew the Little Bird would never do such thing. Sansa would never mislead him like that, so whatever she said was said from the heart. Besides, she was a terrible liar, and he was very good at sniffing falsehood. After a while Sansa said:

"Now rest. You didn't get much sleep last night."

He felt the tiredness from his restless night, as sleep slowly claimed him. But this time he had a different dream. He saw her again, surrounded by enemies who were about to beat her, humiliate her, rape her. But this time around he wasn't paralyzed like before: he drew his sword and launched at those bastards, cutting and slicing each and every one of them: Joffrey's head bounced on the floor, just after he chopped it off; Cersei's beautiful golden gown turned crimson as he drove his sword through her belly with malicious pleasure; he ripped out Littlefinger's eyes, just before cutting his belly and letting his guts spill to the floor; He punched Boros' face so hard and so many times that all that was left was a bloody mass of flesh and hair; Trant's arms were cut off, and then his legs, and he was left screaming and bleeding in the ground. In the end, the only one remaining between him and the Little Bird was his brother. It was a long fight, but in the end Sandor was able to overpower him and throw him at a fire pit, where his flesh burnt horribly as the Mountain screamed.

" _You did it"_ the Little Bird was saying then _"You saved me"_

" _Aye, Little Bird"_

And then – just like in a bloody line from a bloody song – she ran to him and kissed him: a Lady's favor for her champion.

If all of his dreams would look like that, he would be sure to sleep more from now on.

xX Aya Wolf Xx


	8. Lyara I

_**A/N:** __sorry for the long delay. Last month was rough, but I am getting back to this story now. To the chapter!_

 **Lyara I**

It has been almost three days since Alysanne left and Lyara was missing the girl already. Alysanne reminded the old healer of her youngest daughter, Ellara. She was just like that: sweet, kind, innocent. Her smile and her singing would fill Lyara's days with bliss, once upon a time. After she was gone, Lyara lived a bitter and lonely life in her small cabin. And then it all changed when she found a lost and hurt little thing in the woods. It wasn't just kindness that moved Lyara to help Alysanne, and then offer her a place to stay. The healer was moved also by nostalgia, and the longing for some company in that secluded sanctuary in the woods.

She knew that the girl had some secrets: she could see right through the lies she told when they first met, but Lyara didn't mind to know her real story. It didn't matter to her if the girl was really a poor miller's daughter – which she certainly wasn't – or if she was a noble born maiden – which she probably was, with her dainty physique and fine speech. Lyara met her share of nobles in her life, many of them seeking from her hands a cure that not even the maesters could provide. She was acquainted with nobility to recognize someone who has been castle-born. Yet, she also knew that those maidens weren't as fortunate as everyone else assumed them to be: yes, they never had to go wanting for anything, and always had their smallest caprices answered to, but on the other hand they were also captives of their own status and noble name, born and raised to be one thing and one thing only: a pawn at the will of their fathers, and husbands, destined to breed either the little lordlings who would inherit their father's title and lands or noble slave girls like themselves. It wasn't unusual for one or another of those noble daughters to suddenly try to break free and escape such destiny, even if it meant to have the life of a commoner. Maybe that was such a case, and poor Alysanne was just trying to escape marriage to an old and ugly man chosen by her father. Although Lyara _had_ means to discover exactly who the girl was, she decided to put the issue to rest and just accept Alysanne's cover story, no questions and no strings attached. She doubted that her kindness would come back to bite her, because no matter what compelled Alysanne to run away, Lyara could see that she was a good girl, and that she meant no harm whatsoever. Not to the old healer, anyway.

Lyara never regretted her decision. Having Alysanne as an apprentice was the best thing that happened to the old healer in a long time. Not only the girl was a much welcomed help in her daily tasks, but she also brought back something Lyara thought she lost forever: the joy of caring for someone dear, and the feeling of having a family.

She was musing over those thoughts when the Elder Brother approached her. The girl she and Alysanne treated – whose name was Nessie, Lyara found out – was faring much better, and she would be allowed to leave the next morning. In the meantime, Lyara decided she might as well see to other patients, to put her time at the Isle to good use. Those were dark times, when war and famine ravaged the land, and so the number of people hurt and sick was rising every day. Many would seek the Isle to heal and find peace and solace amidst the horrors of war. The Elder Brother was a good healer himself, but he surely could use an extra hand, and welcomed Lyara's suggestion. She was just returning from one of her visits and stopped by the graveyard when Elder Brother found her:

"Peaceful, isn't it?" he asked. She answered without turning to his direction:

"Aye. The dead are a silent kind"

"In a way, maybe. They cannot leave those graves and engage in conversation, but that doesn't mean they can't talk at all… When I think I am alone the ghosts of the people I once knew come to visit me, and talk to me. When we are old it seems that the dead people we know far exceed the living, so it means a lot of talking…"

"I suppose so…"

"Do you have ghosts of your own?"

Lyara sighed and looked away, a painful and faraway look gracing her features. Oh, she did had ghosts haunting her. Before Alysanne came along she even thought that they would be her only companions for the rest of her life. Not that she had much time left to live, anyway. After a few moments she answered:

"Some. Most of them don't bother me anymore. Except three of them, who doesn't seem to go away."

"Who are they?" The Elder Brother asked.

"It doesn't matter. They are long gone"

They fell into uncomfortable silence once more, before the Elder Brother spoke again:

"Alysanne seems like a good girl"

"She is" Lyara said honestly. _'Good'_ was the best world to describe the compassionate and kind nature of her adopted daughter.

"How old is she? She seems pretty young"

"She is eighteen now"

"You weren't very young when she was born, then. She must have been a _surprise last child_ "

"Aye, one could say that"

Lyara knew there was something else to his questioning. It was clear that Alysanne and the healer didn't look alike, so the brother was probably suspicious about who Alysanne really was. But she didn't owe him any explanations, her life was her business alone and the Elder Brother had no right to pry. Decided to end the conversation, she turned and said:

"I should go check on Nessie, and then I will call it a day. Those last days have been exhaustive, and right now I feel very tired."

"Yes, of course"

Lyara turned and left, going back to the little cabin where Nessie was still resting. The girl was awake when Lyara arrived, and greeted her with a smile:

"Lyara! Thought ya left"

"Don't worry, child. I wouldn't leave without seeing you first. How do you feel?"

"I'm good"

Lyara started to inspect the girl, checking her temperature and breathing. She was fine indeed, despite of the fact that she was at the threshold of death just a few days before. The next morning the girl would leave in the ferry, and Lyara would probably never see her again. But before the girl left, there was something else to be said, something that Lyara waited for the very last moment to tell the girl:

"Aye, you seem really fine. You're a sturdy little one a'int you?"

Lyara laughed and the girl joined her. But suddenly the old woman's face became serious, and Nessie asked, in a worried tone:

"Lyara?"

"When you arrived here, you were dying. You would have, if the brothers didn't called me right away. And when I examined you I knew that you had just lost a child… I suspected it was the result of a late moon tea. Am I right?"

The girl dropped her eyes to the floor, ashamed, and answered:

"Aye, y'er right."

"Easy, girl, I am not judging you. I don't need to know what made you do that. But I want you to understand that, even though we saved your life, it is possible that you will carry some nasty scars for the rest of your life."

The girl didn't say anything, but given her expression she wasn't grasping Lyara's meaning. The healer sighed and clarified:

"Well, it is possible that you will sustain some… inner scars of the ordeal. What I mean is: maybe you won't be able to conceive another child"

The girl looked into Lyara's eyes and asked:

"I'm barren?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way for me to say for sure. Just know that it is a possibility."

Silence fell, and Lyara saw the girl had unshed tears in her eyes. She was being brave, Lyara could tell. She wished there was something happy she could tell Nessie, but Lyara could give her no reassurances, and she wouldn't lie to the girl. She hoped for the best, but it was about everything she could do."

"A'right." Nessie said. "Mayhaps is better this way"

That was the worst part of the job, Lyara thought. Even for a healer of her skill, there were certain obstacles that couldn't be crossed. There were scars even Lyara couldn't heal.

"Can I rest?" the girl asked "I'm tired"

"Sure, my dear. Sleep well"

The girl nodded while Lyara left the cabin. She sighed and headed back to the cabin the Elder Brother provided her. Her belongings needed packing, and she would leave in the morrow. She started to sort through her things, making sure she got everything. There was a knock in the door, and Lyara went to answer it:

"It's the Elder Brother. I come bearing gifts"

Lyara sighed and opened, hoping the Elder Brother wouldn't want to resume their earlier conversation. He was holding a basket, and said:

"I asked Brother Narbert to pack these for you. There are some rare herbs in there, which only grow in Essos. I hope this is enough payment for your services"

"Aye, it is more than enough. With the war and everything it's harder to find supplies from Essos. Many thanks, Elder Brother" she said, curtsying. But as soon as she bowed Lyara felt dizzy and she would have fallen to the ground if it wasn't for the Elder Brother. He held her just in time:

"Lyara! Are you alright?" he asked, while gently leading her to sit on the cot nearby.

"Aye, I am fine" she asked, but a violent outburst of cough contradicted her. When she removed her hand from her mouth there was blood in it. The Elder Brother retrieved a cloth from the basket and gave it to her, without a word. She cleaned her hand and her mouth, and said:

"Thank you."

The Elder Brother nodded, before saying:

"How long?"

She understood exactly what he meant, and answered honestly:

"It started about two or three moons ago. I've been using tea to help with the pain, and fumes to treat the disease."

"Does Alysanne know?"

Lyara shook her head, thinking about the girl. She tried to tell her, but couldn't find the courage to do so. Alysanne was still blissfully ignorant to the pernicious disease that Lyara was suffering from. For the past months the old healer was smart enough to hide from the girl every evidence of her suffering.

"No, she doesn't. I don't want her to worry about me"

"But you will have to tell her, Lyara. This will get very worse from now on, you know it. This disease is terrible. Slow, agonizing. She needs to know what is going to happen."

Lyara sighed and said:

"I know. I will tell her when I get back"

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't think so. Other than praying, there isn't much anyone could do for me"

"Well, you can certainly count on my prayers" the Elder Brother said, squeezing her hand. Lyara smiled and nodded. He was right about one thing: she couldn't hide the disease from Alysanne much longer. The girl needed to know Lyara didn't have much time left. The "blood fever" was ruthless, and what was bound to follow wouldn't be pretty to see. The girl deserved a chance to turn and go away, if she wanted. Lyara dreaded that possibility: she didn't want to be alone on her deathbed, but the healer knew maybe it was too much to ask from someone as young as Alysanne. Lyara was bound to a hard and painful path, and she couldn't force the girl to follow her. Yes, she would tell her as soon as she returned. Hopefully the Gods would smile upon her and the girl would stay around until the final day. _"In the end, the Stranger comes to all of us"_ she thought _. "Maybe he will be kind enough and come to me faster."_

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	9. Sansa II

_**A/N:**_ _Again, I am sorry for the long delay. I am trying to get things done here, to have a few chapter ready so I can post regular updates, but I can't make promises. I will try to keep weekly updated, or at least every 2 weeks. Thanks for your patience. Please, read and review._

 **Sansa II**

"Why do you have your feathers all ruffled up, Little Bird? What happened?"

Sansa was brought back to present by Sandor's deep voice. She was so lost in her thoughts that the herbs she has been grinding became almost a thin powder. They were at the little kitchen of the cabin, the fire providing them a much welcomed heat. Winter was approaching fast, so even in broad daylight there was a chill in the air. Sansa was standing by the big oak table that occupied much of the kitchen, a handful of herbs, vials and potions lying in front of her. Sandor was sitting in a wooden bench that was way too small for his big frame. Trying to calm down her raging mind, Sansa sighed and turned to Sandor, answering.

"It has been a week since we left the Isle. Lyara should be here right now. I am worried something bad might have happened to her"

"Like what?" he asked, while he sharpened a sword he got from one of the soldiers from the Vale. Normally it would be oddly calming to Sansa, just watching him run the whetstone through the metal, the course sound a reminder of his steady presence in which nothing bad could happen to her. But she realized not even he could shake away her worries. Something inside her was restless, and it felt like a foreboding. She shook her head and answered honestly:

"I don't know. But you have to admit it; we are living in dangerous times. What if she was attacked on the road? What if she fell from the horse and got hurt?"

"Little Bird, we always lived in dangerous times. You were just too sheltered to realize it before"

His words hurt her more than she cared to admit. Of course, he was telling the truth: she was a sheltered little girl before, loved and protected by her family. The ugliness of the world was something she only met when she found herself at the mercy of the Lannisters. Still, his words were a painful reminder of her past naivety, and it bothered her to no end to think that he still saw her as a pathetic little girl.

"You don't need to remind me that. I am well aware of it" she said, and retorted to silence. Sandor grunted, but said no more for a while. After a few moments he sighed and said:

"I don't think you have cause to worry. Maybe she is still at the Isle, tending to the girl. Maybe she got herself more sick people to treat. In any case, I will go to the Quiet Isle tomorrow, and see what happened"

She realized he was trying to make amends. _"As usual"_ she thought, angrily. _"Always trying to make amends after barking and biting"_ Not bothering to look to his side, she answered:

"You shouldn't. You're not strong enough to ride yet"

Sandor gave a humorless laugh before replying:

"I am sturdier than you think, girl. And you should know by now that a mean bastard like me doesn't die easily. I leave in the morrow" he said, walking out of the kitchen into the courtyard.

Sansa sighed and put the herbs aside. _"Why does it have to be so hard?"_ she thought. Sometimes she and Sandor shared a quiet and comfortable camaraderie, talking about harmless subjects, she grinding herbs and mixing potions, him tending to the horses or sharpening the sword. Sandor recovered quite quickly, and started to do some chores to help her in the house. In the past couple of days they settled in a domestic companionship. While Sandor was tending to the animals, she would be tending to the garden. And when he gathered firewood or gutted fish she would prepare their food and clean the house. Anyone seeing them would picture Sansa and Sandor as husband and wife, and that thought made Sansa shiver with something she couldn't quite place. But there were other times, like now, that he upset her to no end with his hateful remarks and his overall rudeness, and when that happened they wouldn't talk for quite some time. Sandor would drink and be mad and Sansa would be either annoyed or saddened. She didn't really know how to behave around him sometimes. She wanted him to acknowledge that she wasn't a little girl anymore, but a woman grown. She wanted him to realize that the stupid highborn girl that fancied Lords and Knights was buried, and a confident and resourceful healer took her stead. But how could she do that?

She sighed and started mixing the herbs to make a good poultice to dress his wound. Sandor was healing well, that was a fact, but she figured it would be good to give nature a helping hand, especially if he was determined to leave in the morrow. He shouldn't leave, that's for sure, but Sansa figured that given his stubbornness there was no way in hell she would convince him otherwise. He would be risking his life once again, and for what? _"For me"_ she thought, as realization struck. Sansa stopped what she was doing and recalled their recent conversation _. "He is doing this for me, because he can't stand to see me worrying about Lyara. And then, when he offered to go after her even when he shouldn't, I snapped at him, like a 4 year old girl denied her favorite doll"_ She has been so stupid. She wanted Sandor to see her like a woman, and yet there she was, behaving like a child. Maybe figuring out their relationship was as hard on Sandor as it was on her, and yet she wasn't making it any easier for him. _"I have to act like a grown woman"_ she thought " _and maybe he will see that I changed."_ Sansa wasn't sure exactly why she wanted so badly to have Sandor looking at her in a different way. She never realized his approval meant to much to her. _"It's just because I respect his opinions"_ she thought, and decided to leave it like that. Sansa resumed her earlier activity, mixing the plaster. When she was done, she gathered her basket with some of her tools and left the cabin to look for Sandor.

It wasn't hard to find him; there was only one place he went whenever he was sulking and wanted to be alone. Sansa found Sandor combing Stranger's black mane, with steady yet delicate strokes. It made her remind how his hands once pressed a knife to her throat, and how his lips touched hers, in a hasty but gentle kiss. She shook those thoughts aside and cleared her throat to make her presence known. Sandor looked at her direction and grunted in response. After a few moments of silence, Sansa said:

"I brought a poultice. To dress your wound." she said

"There's no need for it" he answered roughly. Sansa sighed and decided to make good on her compromise to be more comprehensive and mature. Instead of snapping at him like a child - or worse, feeling offended and leaving in tears - she only said:

"Please, let me do this. I know you're strong and you feel fine, but I'd like to help. Let me."

He paused, considering her words for a moment. After a while he nodded, stepping away from Stranger and approaching her. Sansa motioned for him to sit upon a nearby bench, to which he obliged.

"Take off your shirt" she said, gathering everything she needed from the basket. He smirked and said:

"I never imagined Sansa Stark would ask me to take off my clothes"

She considered his words for a minute, before replying:

"Many things have happened that we never imagined"

"Aye, it would appear so." He answered, taking his shirt off.

Sansa kneeled before him and examined his wound carefully. It was healing nicely, but it would definitely leave a scar. She soaked a cloth with wine and cleaned the wound, trying to be as gentle as humanely possible. After it was done she applied some of the poultice into the wound, making him wince.

"I am sorry" she said "I know it stings a bit"

"It's alright" he answered. "I had worse"

Sansa nodded and resumed her work, applying the rest of the plaster and bandaging him with a clean cloth.

"It's done" she said "Give it a few more days and you will be as good as new. It will leave a scar, though."

Sandor started to laugh bitterly, before replying:

"Yeah, that would be a shame, right?" he said, with anger barely concealed. Sansa realized too late her mistake. She knew that his scars were a nasty subject between them. Yes, she admitted that once upon a time she would cower and hide from his ruined face, like the little empty-headed girl she was. Once upon a time she would surround herself with everything beautiful and if by chance something ugly caught her eye, she would either dismiss it or try to shine another light at it, to make it look better. When she first met Sandor Clegane his hideous scars scared her, but she made up in her head a story about how he got them valiantly, in battle. As she got to know him, and finally when he told her the ugly truth about his scars, Sansa didn't know what to make of it. But by that time she was slowly coming to understand that beautiful things sometimes hide a monstrous nature, and that the opposite sometimes is also true: the ugliest face could belong to the most devoted protector. She learned that truth in King's Landing, when the mean dog and the impossibly ugly dwarf were the only ones that ever tried to protect her from handsome sweet-tongued and golden haired monsters. But Sandor never believed she changed, and seemed to think she was still disgusted by his scars. She sighed and said:

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"Cut it, girl. Leave it at that. I am a scarred bastard, period. No need to worry your pretty head over it" he said, preparing to stand and leave. Sansa could see it happening all over again: he would sulk and drink, and avoid her like a plague again, like he always did anytime they had a misunderstanding, while she would be hurt and angry. Eventually they would make amends, but for the time being the slow progress in their tentative relationship would be ruined. She would not let it happen again. She would not let him fall into one of his tempers over a mistake. She placed her hands over his knee, to stop him from standing, and said with a steady voice:

"No. I won't leave it at that"

He looked at her with wary eyes, and started to speak:

"Look, girl…"

"No. This time you listen to me." She said, looking him in the eyes. Sandor tried to look away, but Sansa gently turned his head back to her, and continued with a softer voice:

"I won't deny that there was a time when your scars scared me, and repelled me. I know you hate liars, so I will not lie to you and try to sugar-coat it. Yes, your scars are terrible, and yes I was frightened and appalled by them. But that was only in the beginning."

He was silent, his eyes locked on hers. She took it as good sign and continued:

"After some time I got used to them, and then there was a time when I realized they didn't bothered me anymore. Only your hate still frightened me, the anger that I could see in your eyes. There were times, most of them, when I thought your anger was bound for me only, until I realized that it wasn't really me. You were mad at the world." She said. Slowly, she started to caress his scars. He flinched at first, but didn't try to take her hand away.

"People judge you by these" she said "as if it made you into a monster. But you are not a monster, Sandor Clegane. You are a man, and despite your self-hate I know in my heart that somewhere in yours you are a good man. I am not blind or naïve, I know well enough that you did terrible things, but I also know that you saved me, time and time again, and that must count for something." She felt her voice cracking, and tears pooled in her eyes. She closes her eyelids, letting them fall, before continuing:

"You were once a little boy, young and innocent. I presume that you once dreamt of knights and damsels, like the old stories I am sure someone told you when you were a child. And I know that… that… the Mountain shattered all of these dreams when he did this to you" she said, caressing his wounds. He closed his eyes and sighed, and Sansa felt lightheaded at the proximity between them.

"But this is not who you are, Sandor. The world may think whatever it damn wants, we know the truth. I don't mind these scars, not at all. They don't matter to me. The only thing that matters is that I trust you. You are the man who saved me, who risked his own life for me and almost died. You are the man who never told me lies…" she said, and felt her voice wavering. Their lips were almost touching, her hands still on his face. She felt something wet on her fingers and suddenly she was transported back to the night of Blackwater. This time there was no song, no knife and no green fires, but the anticipation she felt was familiar. When she finally touched his lips with hers, she felt safe.

Their kiss was something very different from a song. It started timid, tentative, and escalated quite quickly. Soon he was devouring her mouth, his tongue tracing every path inside her. He kissed her with the longing of a hungry man, barely giving her time to catch her breath. His hands were traveling along her body and she felt giddy. Sansa noticed, scandalized, that she was kissing a half-naked man, and she felt embarrassed by her complete lack of composure or regret. It felt good, and it felt right, but it was too much, too soon, and she was afraid she was threading a path she wasn't fully ready to take, so she put her hands on his chest and broke the kiss, catching her breath. He was still as a rock for a moment, but then he withdrew his hands from her, as if she was burning, and looked away. It was almost like he was ashamed. Before he could storm out, Sansa took his hand in hers and said timidly:

"Please, don't be like that. It's just… it's too much." She said, with a soft voice, still holding his hands. "I mean, we both have things to discuss, issues to work out. We need time. But… don't drive me away. Please."

Sansa was afraid she sounded too weak and that he would again see her as a little girl and not a grown woman, but in the end he nodded and said:

"I won't, Little Bird."

He stood, and helped her up. She thanked him meekly and proceeded to scrub the dirt off her dress. He put on his shirt and strode away, leaving her behind, alone with the horses, her raging mind and her wildly beating heart.

"What in the seven hells is happening to me?" she whispered, to no one in particular. But from somewhere deep in her mind, a thought answered " _I think you know"._

Yes, she did. She was just too afraid to face it yet.

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	10. Sansa III

_**A/N:**_ _I really wanted to make a Sandor POV chapter, but in order to progress with the story as I planed this one had to be Sansa's. His is the next, I promise. Also, again sorry for the long delay etc. I broke so many "I won't take that long to update" promises already I know it's getting old. So, this time I make no promises. But rest assured, half of next chapter is already written, so hopefully I won't dilly dally so much with the next update. Please, read and review._

 **Sansa III**

The kiss definitely changed things between Sansa and Sandor. Surely, they resumed their everyday activities afterwards, almost as if nothing was amiss, but what transpired in that moment was a lingering subject between them, one that Sansa was still afraid to touch.

She didn't quite know how to feel or what to think about it. What she said to Sandor was true: she didn't regret what happened, but it only added confusion to her already raging mind. It wasn't really the first time they kissed: when he left her, in the night of the Blackwater battle, he took a song and a kiss. Well, if you could call that awkward touch of lips a kiss. It wasn't anything nearly passionate as the last one, but it was more than enough to occupy her mind during the time they were apart, and it left her with a faraway feeling of longing she never experienced before. And the kiss they shared in the stables satisfied that longing, and intensified it at the same time, she realized.

It was weird, and it was unsettling. During her time in the Eyrie Sansa would often spend time in the company of Myranda Royce, and she would hear all sorts of things on _that_ matter. Before, Sansa never knew nor imagined what it felt like to want a man, and most of the things Myranda said seemed foreign and off-place. But now, she felt overwhelmed by the realization that perhaps her missing of the Hound was actually a symptom of something else other than gratitude for his protection and desire for his friendship.

She was thrilled and terrified by that thought. What if she really felt something else for the Hound? What would that mean for her, for them? Sansa caught herself watching him with different eyes. Surely he had one of the most hideous faces in Westeros, but he also had strong arms and a thick neck. He was a man made for fight, she understood. He was so tall he towered above her, even though she was quite tall herself. And his broad form could engulf her easily. Yes, he was a man who could break her little bones in two as if she was indeed a little bird. Yet, she didn't felt scared by that thought. On the contrary, she felt safe with him. She tried to compare him mentally to the men she thought were attractive in the past, and Gods, he was so different from them. Joffrey, Loras and Willas seemed so dainty and weak compared to Sandor. Now that she thought about it, Sansa knew that whatever infatuation she felt towards the others was equally weak compared to the nameless feeling she had towards Sandor.

"Hey, are you deaf, girl?"

His strong voice brought her back to the present moment. She was so distracted that she didn't even hear him coming. Shaking all of her feelings and doubts aside she asked:

"I'm sorry. What did you said?"

"I said I brought a rabbit. For the soup." He was saying "What happened, Little Bird? You seemed to be elsewhere…"

"I was" she answered, but then she realized she couldn't voice exactly what her thoughts were, so Sansa lied "I'm still worried about Lyara"

"Hmpf" he grunted in response "Told you yesterday that I could go and look for her. You wouldn't let me"

"I know, I just didn't want you to ride just yet." she said, blushing. "But…well, if she doesn't come back by tomorrow, we ought to do something"

"Aye" he said "if she doesn't come back by tomorrow I will go to the Quiet Isle" he said, looking at her. His stare was so intense it made her feel uncomfortable, so she turned to the rabbit on the table instead. Avoiding his gaze she started to prepare the meal, all the while feeling like her heart was a bird trying to fly away from her chest. It was so unsettling that her mind and her body seemed to react so strongly in his presence. Before, when they were apart, it was easy to ignore the sentiment, but even then The Hound would creep into her thoughts more often than not. His presence has always been so steady and constant in her life before Blackwater, so after his departure some kind of void was created in its stead. Now that he was back she started to remember these days of his absence as a dream, as something that happened to someone else and not to her. Sandor gave her a suspicious look before grunting and leaving the cabin. _"This is madness"_ she thought, turning her attention again to the task at hand.

They ate the meal in silence, afterwards, Sansa still avoiding his eyes as best as she could. She couldn't keep her mind out of the kiss they shared, and the thought that he could see right through her and guess what she was thinking made her nervous. He seemed to notice that something was amiss, and once or twice it seemed as if he was about to speak something, but changed his mind. Sansa was grateful for that, because she wasn't sure how to explain her strange behavior. Something told her he wouldn't buy the excuse that it was all apprehension about Lyara.

After the meal Sansa excused herself and decided to go tend the garden, praying that it would help to keep her mind out of Sandor. She collected a basket and started to work with the plants, fighting to focus on something else than the man inside the house. A few moments later, however, the object of her anxiety casually joined her in the yard, shirtless, with an axe at hand and the excuse that they needed more chopped wood. His muscular torso glistening with sweat was quite a sight, and as much as she wanted to keep her mind on the task she was performing, she found her eyes and thoughts wandering back to him again and again. Somehow he seemingly sensed it as well, because he spoke, turning to her:

"Find anything you like, Little Bird?"

Her face turned red when she realized he caught her staring, and she couldn't even make up a believable excuse:

"I… I wasn't… I mean…"

"Don't fret, Little Bird. You can stare all you want. I don't mind" his voice was rough as usual and the sound of it sent shivers down her spine "as long as you don't mind if I stare back" he said, leaving the axe on the ground and approaching her.

"I… I…" she failed to conjure up a coherent sentence. His proximity was too much for her to bear, and the sight of his bare chest wasn't helping either. She wondered what was happening to her, if she gone mad or something. Her earlier thoughts came back to haunt her, as a voice inside her screamed with wanting at the sight of his mouth… she didn't realized she was leaning back towards the house until her back hit the wall. She was definitely trapped between two solid walls – the house and his strong body. Her mind was a blank sheet and any kind of rational thought slipped away, as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

Something in the back of her mind was telling her to stop and get away from him at once – a voice of reason, stating that she didn't know what she was doing and that she would get into trouble – but the kiss felt too good for Sansa to obey. She realized reason had nothing to do with the feelings she had and the wanting that overcame her. Sandor seemed pleased with her compliance, for he eagerly devoured her. His hands found the way to her waist, and then to her breasts. She should protest, she should tell him to stop, she should tell him that it wasn't right, this is not the way it happens in the songs, but her body was melting into his, and she realized that this was way better than any song. Her heart was beating wildly. She felt powerless, but it seemed like a good thing. She knew how it felt to be at someone's mercy. She felt that way her whole life, especially during the horrid time when she was a captive of the Lannisters. Back then, feeling so powerless seemed disgraceful and awful, but now it was a different feeling altogether. Now she was at his mercy, and yet, given the way he seemed so enthralled by her, he was at her mercy as well. _"So this is what it feels like"_ Sansa thought _"this is what loving a man really feels like…"_. Love… _"Do I love him?"_ she asked herself, though she knew the answer already. _"Does he love me back?"_ she wondered then, and the thought that the answer to that question could be "no" gave her more pain than she could handle.

Suddenly Sandor stopped the kiss and tensed, his hands griping her waist firmly. For a moment Sansa didn't understood what happened, but then she heard the sound of hooves and her heart skipped a beat. Looking over Sandor's shoulders, she saw Lyara standing there with a shocked expression on her face. She wasn't alone, though: an impassive Elder Brother was at her side.

"Oh" Sansa said, letting go of Sandor and stepping in her direction "Lyara, you're back" she said, but the healer ignored her and walked straight to Sandor instead:

"I know who you are. You are the Hound" the healer spoke as if the name was a curse. Clearly Lyara was aware of his fame, and Sansa knew they were off to a bad start.

"I _was_ the Hound" he answered simply.

"I heard you were dead" Lyara said "But clearly that's not the case"

"Well, I almost died, if it counts for something"

"Lyara" Sansa said, stepping in front of Sandor to get her attention. Lyara clearly had a bad opinion on Sandor, and Sansa knew it was expected, but she had to get the old woman to trust him. She wasn't sure what she would tell her, but it was really important that she managed to get Lyara and Sandor to get along fine. The old healer finally turned her attention to her, and Sansa continued:

"I can explain. He means no harm, you have to trust me"

"Trust The Hound?" Lyara said "Oh, Alysanne, you're asking me quite a lot"

"I know" the young woman answered "But he isn't as bad as everyone says, I can assure you"

"Lyara, you should hear what your daughter have to say before you jump into conclusions…" the Elder Brother said, and Lyara suddenly turned to him, accusingly:

"Gods, you knew? This man was living on the Quiet Isle, you had to know who he was… This whole time, you were harboring a… killer. A monster!"

"Yes, you're right. I know what he used to be, and I know what he is now. The two are not the same, Lyara, it is far more complicated than you think. You should listen to Alysanne. You don't know the whole tale…"

"So, pray tell me, what is the whole tale? What is he doing here? How did you get so close to this… man, Alysanne?"

"Come with me, Lyara. I will tell you everything" Sansa answered. "Please, Elder Brother, if you don't mind I need to talk to her alone. You too, Sandor. Please, leave us alone for a moment."

The Elder Brother nodded and motioned for Sandor to follow him. Sighing, Sandor followed the religious man to a clearing near the cabin. Sansa and Lyara entered the house, the old healer silent as a grave, and Sansa nervous about… well, everything. If it wasn't enough that her feelings for Sandor were overpowering her, now she also had to convince Lyara that the man she was kissing so eagerly wasn't the monster the whole realm seemed to think he was.

"Lyara, I know you are a good healer, and a great person. I know you accepted me with an open heart, and without further questions. That's why it pains me to admit that I was dishonest to you." She started uncertainly. Lyara said nothing, so she continued:

"My name is not Alysanne, and I am not a miller's daughter. I was actually born in a castle, far from here. I am the oldest daughter born from a Lord of a noble House" she said, and paused. Lyara actually smirked to her, and answered:

"I realized you were castle born from the start, girl. I took me just a look at your delicate hands to realize that you never done any real work in your life apart from sewing and being pretty. But I wasn't bothered by that, I thought you were just a runaway girl, trying to avoid marriage to an old man. Or perhaps an abused wife seeking shelter from a violent husband…"

"Well, you assumed right. I came here seeking shelter from violence… and marriage…" Sansa answered, and after a while, continued "Some time ago, as I was approaching marriageable age, my parents made a betrothal pact in my name. I was supposed to marry the heir of a Great House, so I left my home to live in his castle, as we waited until I was old enough. The betrothal made me incredibly happy at first. The boy I was to marry was so handsome and elegant. He was as gallant as a prince from a song, so I thought I couldn't be luckier to have him as a husband. Little did I know that the betrothal would only bring me so much suffering…" Sansa faltered, and after a few seconds of silence, Lyara encouraged her:

"Go on, girl."

"It turns out that the boy I was supposed to marry was actually a monster. He wasn't a gallant prince, he was a cruel bastard, a coward who liked to abuse innocents, a foul creature who reveled in the pain he inflicted to others. He abused me in so many ways that I cannot even begin to tell you. During that time, only one man would step in to shield me from that horrible boy… a scarred man, with the fame of a brute and a mean demeanor, whom everyone thought as a monster. But trust me, Lyara, he was no monster. He was… kind… in his own strange way. Even if he sometimes said mean things, it was just to teach me how to survive in that place… he was my savior"

"The Hound" Lyara said, simply.

"Yes. Him. He was the only friend I had at that time. One day he decided he had enough of cruel masters and liars, and left. The night he left he went to my room, and offered to help me escape. At that time I was too much of a weak and scared thing, so I declined, saying I would be safe…"

"And what happened after that?" the older woman asked.

"After that… well, my betrothal to that monster was eventually annulled because his family found a more… profitable match, so I was cast aside. I was so naïve I thought I would be free to go. But in the end I was forced to marry a man who was… well, he was not what I expected. Although he was ugly to look at, he wasn't cruel to me, not at all. He actually treated me with kindness, and left me alone. He didn't even forced me to fulfill my marriage vows, so the marriage was never consummated. But, even that my lord husband wasn't that bad, the only thing I wanted was to escape from that place, from all the people who wronged me so much. When an opportunity to escape arrived I took my chances and fled. I thought I could be free, but I was wrong."

Lyara said nothing, so Sansa continued:

"The man who helped me escape… well, he didn't do it out of the kindness in his heart. He only helped me because he wanted something in return. He wanted to use me, to use my family name and my claim to turn me into a pawn again. His plans involved another marriage betrothal, another cage for me… but I wouldn't have any of it. So I made up my mind to escape. My original plan was to get to the Saltpans and embark in a ship to Essos, but I fell from my horse, and you found me…"

"So you abandoned your original plan…" Lyara simply stated.

"Well, yes. When I fled I had nowhere to go, so I thought crossing the Narrow Sea would be the best call. I figured I could find an occupation in Essos, as a seamstress or a maid tending to a noble Lady. I had that plan in mind when I fled, but when you offered me a place here… well, I thought it would be safe to stay. No one would come looking for someone like me in these woods. I should be safe…"

Sansa finished her tale with a sigh, and a strange sense of peace inside her. It didn't seem right to lie to Lyara all of these months, and Sansa often felt conflicted about telling her the whole truth or not. Now that she did it, she felt relief. Now, even if Lyara didn't forgive her and cast her out of their home for the lies she told, Sansa still had Sandor at her side. He would protect her, as he did so many times before. He wouldn't let harm come to her. Maybe they could flee again, find a safe place in a small village far from there, where Sansa would be a healer and Sandor… well, she would have to figure that part later. In the moment all that mattered was that the truth was told, and for the first time Sansa didn't feel as awful for being dishonest to someone who only wanted to help her. There was quietness in the cabin, a silence only disrupted by the sound of their breathing. After a few moments, Lyara spoke:

"That is… quite the tale, girl. But you didn't tell me something… if your name is not Alysanne, than what is it?"

Sansa sighed before replying, saying the name aloud for the first time in ages:

"My real name is Sansa Stark."

 _xX Aya Wolf Xx_


	11. Sandor II

**A/N:** _I found scarce information on diseases from Westeros. The only well described sickness is the greyscale, but I didn't want Lyara to have it because: 1) it is infectious, so Lyara (as I imagined her) wouldn't allow Sansa to live with her once she learned she had an infectious disease and 2) it is actually quite rare in most of Westeros, aside from the Iron Islands and Dragonstone, which are cold and damp like the place the disease originated from. So, Lyara's disease is actually a lung cancer, referred to as "blood fever" because of its most distinctive symptoms (blood coughing). I also changed the name of the disease in Lyara's chapter, as it was previously called "white sickness" (a reference to "white death", one of the common names for Tuberculosis until the discovery of the bacteria that causes the disease in 19_ _th_ _century. I originally intended her disease to be a form of tuberculosis, but the infectious factor was what ultimately made me change my mind). If you would be so kind, please review. I really like to know your thoughts and if you are enjoying the story so far. As I told you already English is not my mother language, so if you happen to notice any errors let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks for your time._

 **Sandor II**

After Lyara and Sansa left, Sandor and the Elder Brother sat in silence for a few moments until the religious man spoke:

"So… Sansa Stark…"

"What of her?" Sandor replied gruffly. He was annoyed to no end at the present situation. He grew used to being alone with Sansa in the woods, and although he knew it wouldn't last, that the old healer would return at some point, he actually wanted their privacy to last a little longer. _"So you can take advantage of her, your shameless dog?"_ a voice said inside his head, leaving him even angrier and ashamed of himself. No matter how good the Little Bird thought he was, in the end he was still a bastard.

"Well, now she knows who you are… and apparently you and her are in good terms right now… I mean, supposing you did not forced her to…"

"I did not!" Sandor growled. "I did not forced her to anything."

"Alright, my friend." The Elder Brother replied "But you understand that I had to ask. When you told me about her you mentioned you desired to take her, weather she was willing or not…"

"Aye, I did say that, and I meant it in the past." Sandor admitted, but brushed off these memories "But that was _then_. Now it's… _different._ "

"How so?" the Elder Brother asked, and it took Sandor some time to gather his thoughts. So much has happened in the last few days, he didn't really stopped to think about it. Now the memories of his reencounter with the Little Bird came crashing at him:

"When I saw her here, after such a long time, I wasn't sure what to do. I was unsure as how she would react. As I told you, I wasn't exactly good to her…"

"Yes, I remember…"

"Yet somehow she seems to think I was a friend of hers, back in Kings Landing. She sees me as a savior, as a good man… something I am clearly not."

"Why do you think she sees you in such light?" the Elder Brother asked. Sandor shrugged and said:

"I don't know. Maybe she was around so many monsters that she picked the least terrifying of them."

"And now… since she thinks you are a savior she feels… indebted to you?"

"Mayhaps. I did not force her, I can guarantee. But… well, maybe she though she owed me that. That she owed it to me for the times she thought I saved her somehow."

"So… you still doubt you are a man worth of forgiveness and kindness…"

"You're damn right I do." Sandor replied with a mirthless laughter. Silence fell for a moment, before the Elder Brother spoke again:

"You think the girl is stupid, Sandor?"

"What?" Sandor asked, as if he didn't hear right.

"The girl… Sansa Stark. You think she is stupid?"

Sandor sighed and contemplated his answer for a moment, before speaking:

"I called her stupid more than once… but no, especially not now. Naïve, maybe, innocent… but not stupid. She survived so far, when many of her enemies didn't. She outlasted Joffrey, Tywin Lannister, and survived even Littlefinger. She is not stupid."

"So, why do you doubt her capacity to make a conscious choice to be with you?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I am afraid I am dead serious." The Elder Brother said in a scolding tone he often used when he had a point to make.

"This girl, whom you think is not stupid, sees you as a savior, and a good man. She encounters you again after a long time apart, and she chooses to be with you… as a woman…"

"Stop…"

"No, I won't stop. You listen to me. The girl cares for you. That much is clear. She received you open heartedly, she is trying to convince Lyara to trust you, as we speak. She made a choice to be with you, and now you question that? Isn't it all you wanted?"

"Yes… it is."

"Then why question it?"

"Because such thing doesn't happen to people like me. The fair highborn maiden gives her heart to the ugly and lowborn man because she sees goodness inside him… that's a bloody line from a bloody song. That doesn't happen in real life."

"I am afraid you're wrong on that matter, Sandor. The girl cares for you… maybe she even loves you. The question now is: do you care about her?"

They fell silent after that. Sandor contemplated everything the Elder Brother said to him. He felt something for the girl: that much was clear. At first, he thought he was angry at her, so prude and naïve, a highborn girl with a head full of fantasies, a girl who loved the very same things he despised: knighthood, lordships, songs, big castles and fancy clothes. He felt he was disgusted, at first. Then there was the day he walked her from the Hand's tournament, the night he told her the ugly truth about his ugly scars. She was terrified at first, but then… she put a hand in his shoulder and said that Gregor _"was no true Knight"._ He laughed at that, but he realized that it was everything he always wanted to hear from someone, _anyone_. It felt so wrong that his vicious brother would be rewarded with knighthood four years after disfiguring the face of a six year old child, a child that was his _own_ flesh and blood, no less. It shattered all of his young dreams about knighthood, dreams which matched Sansa's own fantasies, he realized. Gregor was a mockery to knighthood, but all around the Seven Kingdoms people praised him for his prowess in battle, and every time Sandor heard a compliment about his brother it felt like he was burning all over again. Then, there was that night. The silly little bird that had her head on the clouds and was so irrevocably trusting - even in a vipers nest where she shouldn't be - that naïve girl gave him the reassuring he needed all of his life. Gregor was _no true knight_ , she said, and suddenly not only he trusted her words, but he also felt something towards her that wasn't anger, or spite.

As time grew by, the nameless thing he felt for her grew inside him. At first he called it _pity_ , but then he realized it wasn't _right_. What he felt for her _couldn't_ be pity, not with the way he looked at her figure, her growing tits, her plushy mouth, her slender frame, long legs, creamy skin and tiny waist… It couldn't be pity, not with the way he imagined her pretty red hair cascading around her bare shoulders as she moved to match his rocking hips as he fucked her bloody… So, it _wasn't_ pity, it was lust, he thought, but even then it didn't felt right. Yes, he _wanted_ to fuck her, he wanted it so much he even hired red-haired whores any time he could, to pretend he was fucking the Little Bird… but lust _couldn't_ be the reason he felt to utterly useless and ashamed when he wasn't able to protect her from the golden lions who were so cruel to her… it couldn't be just lust, not with the way something stirred inside him when she touched his ruined face and sang a song in the heart of darkness.

Sandor wasn't sure what it was that he felt for the girl. The desire was there, but there was _something_ else as well. An urge to protect her, to make sure she would never _ever_ cry like she did in Kings Landing… a yearning to be… _worthy_ of her. Before Sandor could answer the question the door to the cabin opened, and Sansa motioned for them to enter. Silently they walked to the cabin, as Sandor mused through everything he discussed with the Elder Brother.

"You must be tired and hungry, Elder Brother. Please, come inside and eat." Sansa said with a smile. When she locked eyes with Sandor she blushed so prettily he felt like taking her mouth on spot, but decided against it. If she managed to convince Lyara she wasn't harboring a monster it wouldn't help his case if he ravished the Little Bird in front of the old healer.

The said healer looked at him with interest written all over her face. _"At least it's not contempt"_ he thought _"That's a start"._ He wondered what the Little Bird told her, if she flourished the tale of how he was her savior and all of that. Did Lyara even believe it? Was she pretending to accept him only to have him poisoned afterwards? He doubted Lyara was a bad person, but as a healer she sure _knew_ her poisons. And she seemed to like Sansa like a real daughter. Would she be willing to take drastic measures to protect Sansa from him? Would she allow him to stay only to murder him in his sleep?

Lyara and the Elder Brother sat at the only table and ate their meal in silence. Sandor briefly retreated to put on a tunic, but returned and took a spot standing by the door, while Sansa sat at a small wooden chair, far too small for her frame _. "Looks like a children's chair"_ he thought. But it was clear that no child lived in the cabin.

After the meal was finished, Lyara was the first to break the silence.

"So… Alysanne… I mean, Sansa said she knew you, from the Red Keep. She says she trusts you and that I should too."

Sandor only nodded, not sure what to say about it.

"But you understand what she asks is… difficult. The fame of the Clegane brothers is not the finest. The Mountain was a monster who liked to beat and rape… and the Hound… the Hound was responsible for many crimes in the Saltpans…"

"My brother may as well be a monster… but I am not _him_. As for the Saltpans… I had nothing to do with that, you can ask the Elder Brother. At the time the _"Mad Dog of the Saltpans"_ was attacking I was recovering at the Quiet Isle. And burning that village? You can see why I am no fond of fire…"

She nodded, and said:

"Very well. I can make no promises but I will try to see you in the same good light the girl does. And you are allowed to stay here for the time being."

"Thank you" he said "but I don't think I should stay here any longer. Neither should she."

"Why not, Sandor?" Sansa asked, confused "You didn't said anything before…"

He sighed before answering:

"Aye, I didn't. The past few days I wasn't in my best shape and needed recovering. And you would never leave before the healer returned anyway. But those men from the Vale… how long do you think it will take before someone else comes looking for them? And when they do, they'll find you. Unless you want to return to the Eyrie…"

"No!" she screamed in an urgent and panicked tone "I will never return to that place."

"Then we should leave before that happens…" he concluded. The hint of desperation in her voice when she claimed she didn't want to return to the Vale wasn't missed, but Sandor chose to ignore it for the time being. He would eventually ask her what happened to her there, but not now. There were more urgent matters to discuss, and not much time for it.

"So… where would we go?" Sansa asked, still sounding unsure.

That was something Sandor had been considering for the last days. Sansa and he were escaped criminals from the crown: she was considered Tyrion's accomplice in Joffrey's murder, not to mention a valuable key to anyone wanting to claim the North. He was a traitor, and since the attack of the Mad Dog of Saltpans he was also considered a war criminal. Surely, with her copper Tully hair dyed black Sansa was less recognizable, but his burned face was too distinctive. They couldn't go south; they had to stay as far from the Crownlands as they could to avoid the Lannisters. And if they went north their chances weren't very good either. Sansa was a Stark of Winterfell, but her powerful name meant little considering the North was being ruled by the Boltons. If Roose Bolton realized Sansa was alive and going north he would do anything to prevent her from contacting other northern houses and raising them against Winterfell. Death was the best Sansa could expect from the Boltons, because as far as he knew, Roose's son was a sick man who liked to beat, rape and kill girls like her. They would never be safe anywhere in Westeros, not with so many enemies around them and so little friends. There was only one course of action, Sandor realized:

"We could cross the sea." He said "To Essos"

Sansa was silent for a moment, considering his words. The, she raised her eyes to meet his and said:

"But… I cannot just leave Lyara here. If Baelish's men come here and find her… she is not safe here either."

Sandor was about to retort, when he heard Lyara's voice:

"You don't have to worry about me, girl. I am an old woman, I don't have many more years to live anyway."

"No, Lyara. I can't just leave you…"

Sandor realized it was going to be hard to convince the girl. He knew she could be stubborn when she wanted: there was a wolf in her after all. Yet, they couldn't stay in that place, not anymore. As Sandor was considering what to say to break the Little Bird's resolve, the Elder Brother broke his silence:

"Lyara… you _have_ to tell her."

Sansa turned to the old man with questions in her blue eyes:

"Tell me _what?_ What happened?" she said. Lyara nodded and sighed, turning to Sansa, as she spoke:

"Alys… Sansa… Do you remember what I told you about consuming sickness? The fevers that can claim a man's life..."

"Yes, Lyara, I do. But I don't understand…"

"Do you remember what I told you about blood fever?"

"Yes. It is… it is a consuming disease. It slowly fills the lungs with blood, causing fever, pain and making it harder and harder to breath, until it leads to death…"

Sandor did not understand what Lyara was trying to tell. _"Unless"_ he thought _"she has it. That's why she said she doesn't have many years to live. She already bears the Stranger's mark"._

"I am sick, Sansa. I started to cough blood just a few moons after you came here. Then there was occasional pain and some nightly fever, as you remember. I told you it was just common fever, from the weather growing increasingly cold, but in truth I already knew what it was."

"Oh, Lyara…" the girl said, and Sandor noticed she had tears pooling around her eyes. She was very fond of the healer, he realized, and the news was a devastating blow to Sansa _. "Will it ever stop?"_ he wondered _"she is always losing people she cares about. Her father, then her brothers and mother… and now Lyara. There is no end to this?"_ he thought bitterly.

"As I told you, my days are already coming to an end, darling. You are not safe here, you have to leave. And now that you know I am dying… if you think you are tied to this land because of me, my incoming death surely releases you from that bond."

"No, it doesn't, Lyara" the Little Bird said "I risked your life coming here, and I can't leave you alone to face the outcome of my presence here. I cannot leave you now that I know you need me more than ever."

"Girl…" Sandor said, but was abruptly interrupted by the Little Bird, who seemed to be very upset, even angry.

"No, Sandor, you don't do this to me. Don't tell me I have to leave her alone. She is sick, she needs me. I can't do that. I can't..."

He knew he had to say something, but was at loss of words. Staying was a stupid decision. Littlefinger would surely find them eventually, and then there would be nothing he could do to save the girl. But he knew that, for Sansa, abandoning Lyara would feel like a betrayal, and she already carried the guilty of her past deeds, when she was leaded to betray her family by the golden tongues of the Lannisters. She wouldn't bear to do that again. As he was trying to convey something to say, the Elder Brother spoke:

"If I may suggest something… I think you all should go; even you, Lyara. While Westeros does not know the cure for your sickness, maybe Essos' healers already have a better understanding of what you are going through. But if you finally decide to stay, you can come to the Quiet Isle with me. You will be cared for, I can assure you that. And I surely can use some help in treating the sick and injured."

"Women are not allowed there." The old healer said. The Elder Brother answered:

"Not as permanent habitants, but as visitors and patients they are well accepted. You will be allowed to stay after I explain your… condition."

Sandor didn't exactly like the idea of the healer joining them in exile, but he wasn't going to question. As long as it made the Little Bird agree to the plan, he would accept another companion of journey. Upon their arrival in Essos, he would find a safe place for them to stay, and a position as a sellsword, if anyone would take him. He would accept any employment he could, as long as the payment could afford them a roof, food and wine. Sansa could even resume her activity as healer, if she wanted to. And if at some point the opportunity to return to Westeros presented itself… well, they would have to wait and see. Sandor realized they were all silently waiting for the healer to speak. Then she did:

"A travel… would be hard on me."

"I know, Lyara. But if there is a hope for cure…" Sansa started, but Lyara interrupted her with a humorless laughter:

"Oh, dear… I wouldn't hold much faith on that possibility."

"Either way, I cannot leave you, Lyara. If you stay, I stay. Please, come with us. Please, don't leave me."

Sansa's pleads certainly found a way into the healer's heart, because she nodded slightly. Sandor caught a glimpse of tears on the old woman's eyes. _"That settles it"_ he thought. Now, they had to make arrangements for their departure, as quickly as they could. There was no time to lose, as they already wasted more time they could afford. The stakes were too high, so they had to act quickly.

"I will arrange a ship to carry the three of you to Essos" the Elder Brother said "it's better if no one in the village knows that you are leaving. If they don't know you are going, and where, when men come looking for you there will be no one to spill the secret. You should travel under the guise of people of the Faith. It's a simple story: you will be a silent brother travelling with two silent sisters, one of which is an old woman who is gravely ill and wishes to visit her family across the sea, the other being her younger escort. No one will question it, and the hood of the Silent Brother will disguise your face, Clegane. Once you reach Essos you can do as you see fit"

Sansa looked over to the Elder Brother with an expression of deep gratitude. She hugged him, and muttered:

"Thank you, Elder Brother. I don't know how to repay you for everything you have done. For saving him, and keeping him safe… for helping Lyara and me. I truly have no words."

"It's alright, my dear. I don't really know you very well, but I am terribly sorry for all of your losses. As for Lyara, she is an old friend of mine, and Sandor… well, let's say that despite his manners I grew very fond of him these past months. He reminds me a lot of myself… how I used to be when I was younger."

Sandor walked over to the Elder Brother, with a solemn expression and said simply:

"Thank you, old man."

"You don't need to thank me" the Elder Brother said with humor "I am more than glad to be rid of your foul mood… and your nasty stallion as well. I bet the other brothers will be very glad the beast is gone from the stables". There was laughter in his eyes as he said those words, and Sandor replied:

"And I am more than glad to get rid of your lectures. You talk a lot for a silent brother."

The two men shook hands and the Elder Brother left the cabin, promising to come back as soon as he managed to arrange things for their departure. In the meantime, there was packing to be done, as they finally prepared to leave Westeros and their enemies behind. There was no way to know if the path ahead of them would be easier than the one they were leaving behind. But for once Sandor did not felt helpless. He made a vow to himself that this time around he would protect the Little Bird, and nothing would stand in his way.

xX Aya Wolf Xx


End file.
